be good
by MadnessIsTheMurderer
Summary: I'm just a good girl. So don't look at me like that, don't hand me those roses, don't say you love me. Turn around, walk away. Leave and never look back. Those roses are dying, they'll die. I'll leave them; you left them to me. OCxMori
1. Chapter 1

He stares at me with kind, sad eyes.

He doesn't want to leave Africa, either. We're happy here; we're content. There's everything here for us. A future. A present. Our past is forgotten. Here, we've connected with nature, with one another. We grow our own food, raise our own cows, walk long distances to get water.

But business is business. And as he tells me over and over, business is done here.

We're getting on the plane tomorrow, he repeats. Go to bed.

Go to bed. Be a good girl. Follow daddy wherever he goes and ignore your own wishes. Too many commands, too many demands.

Shut up, father, I want to say. Go yourself, I'm staying in Africa with all the people who I've grown to love. Go away, I don't want to go. Leave me here; I'm seventeen, old enough to take care of myself.

Yes father, is what I say.

He smiles, rubs the spot between his brows. Good girl, he praises, my good girl.

Your good girl, I repeat to myself in my room. Your good girl. Yes, all I am. You're good girl.

I am nothing else. Just your good girl.

Sen Sakai. No, that is not I. I am just your good girl. A name means nothing when I'm yours. A name is nothing I need; useless.

Just a good girl.

Your good girl.

That night, I don't sleep.

He does, I hear. Loud snores in our small shack of a home. Echoing, rumbling the walls, frightening me with each loud rumble it sends. Shivers down my back, thoughts in my mind. Panic building.

I'm awake when he opens the door to my shabby room, his smile sad, kind, just like those eyes. He grabs my suitcase I packed at three, drags it outside with his. We enter the cab, leave. Board the plane and don't look back to the lovely life we led for eight months, the life I had worked years to learn.

The language, the traditions, the farming and agricultural work. All the studying for naught.

A waste of time.

The clouds grow dark as we approach Japan. Monsoon season, I think. I remember reading of it; all the studying for naught.

Not any more.

He sleeps on the plane. I do not. I'm not tired, not scared, not anything.

I am nothing.

Just your good girl.

We land. I feel like crying – no turning back. No more life, no more friends. New start. Yes, a new beginning. A new life, new adventure.

A new lie.

You're such a good girl, he praises again. I want to flinch at his words. I don't.

You're a good father, I lie. He's not; he's a horrible father. Constantly I ponder if he's even fit for raising a child. All the work. Raised by nannies. Calling the mail-man 'papa' because he knew me better than he.

But I'm a good girl.

I don't say things like that.

You'll be attending Ouran, he says. I pretend to be excited; Ouran is a school for rich kids. We are rich.

I'm so excited, I say.

I am not excited.

It's raining when we enter into the cab. I watch the droplets glide down the clear window, paying little attention to the scenes blurring behind the sad drops of water. Bright signs. Intricate lines of expressions. Kanji, hirigana, katakana. English. So many things, so little time.

So confusing. So distressing.

I've bought us a large home, he explains. We're rich; we can afford it. He's a business man – multibillionaire, he calls himself.

But he's not. We only have millions. Multimillionaires.

That's great, I respond, Maybe I'll make new friends.

But I don't want new friends. I don't think it's great.

I don't want to be here.

You're such a good girl, he says for the thousandth time. It's his one line of affection: you're a good girl. The only form of love I am ever shown.

I smile to him.

It's fake.

You're such a good father, I say.

That's fake.

He nods, proud of himself. Looks out the window, points. I look. We laugh.

Everything's fake.

Even us.

Our house is huge, I notice. We arrive there; a mansion. Large, winding drive way in. Giant gates. Giant building.

So many windows, such a big double door. Too much space, all too much.

Such a lonely house, I think. Too lonely. I want to turn, to run and scream and swim across the ocean to Africa. I don't want to be here.

But I'm just a good girl.

Good girls don't do that. They don't run away.

They don't escape.

We grab our stuff, enter, place it on the ground and explore. He immediately goes to the kitchen – always a cook at heart.

I walk up the grand staircase, to the second floor and to the left. A large hallway, with paintings on the wall and decorations already in place. Another hallway branches off to the right – I turn into it.

It's empty here, just two doors and a few lonely paintings. Secluded.

There's a study room, I notice as I open a door. Across from it – a bathroom. My study area.

I turn around, back to the stairs. To the right this time, wandering down the hall. Four doors along the main hall, another two on the secluded one similar to that of the left side. Two guest bedrooms, one main bedroom. A bathroom. Then the study room and other bathroom. Back to the staircase, but straight this times.

It's a huge hallway, with doors spanning across it on either side. I count six, each spread so far apart from one another.

All rooms. But for who?

Dust, I know. They are meant for the dust and empty memories. Things we don't want to see. Things we don't want.

At the end of the hall is a grand french door. I open it, walk out.

A balcony, overlooking the city full of lights. Rain falls, I watch.

It's cold; I don't shiver. I don't mind.

I am nothing.

Sen, he calls my name. I turn back into the house and shut the door, lock it, go to him.

Down the stairs, to the kitchen, past the large kitchen and into a dining room, already set up with plush furniture and decorations. Just like the rest of the home.

He smiles to me, sits on the couch, turns on the TV to the news channel and listens to the two people speaking quickly in Japanese.

I understand. I hear them, process it, get it.

I speak it. I know. I studied.

A car crash, they say, somewhere downtown. How unfortunate.

Isn't this lovely, he asks me, it's the place for us.

It's too big, is what I want to say. Let's go back to Africa, with our run down house we built together, with the roof that leaked when it rained, with the walls that let in a nice draft.

Of course, is what I say.

He turns off the TV, yawns, stretches.

Go to bed, he commands, You start school tomorrow.

I don't question how I get there or of my supplies. I don't ask what classes I'm in or if he knows that I take Advanced Math and Science classes. I don't ponder if he knows me.

I walk upstairs, down the main hallway and into the room closest to the balcony.

I lay in a plush bed, not caring that this room is smaller than the others, that it's an unideal guest room, with cold walls facing the outside and the echo of rain being heard clearly.

It sings me to sleep easily.

I dream of nothing.

There's a knock, hours later. My eyes open; a bright light. I flinch, cover my eyes with my hands as I sit up. Someone's here. I put my feet on the ground, get out of bed, grasps something to keep myself steady.

Good morning, a voice calls out. It's happy, too energetic for this time of day. It's your first day of school, the female voice continues.

I say nothing, just complacently get dressed into the yellow dress that is thrown my way. Pull on white stockings, slip on brown shoes. Tie back long black hair, wash a pale face.

You're so beautiful, the woman coos to me as she watches me brush my teeth in the bathroom across from my room. I say nothing, only continue brushing.

She is the beautiful one. Long blond hair, stunning green eyes, a slim body. She is everything, I am nothing.

I am plain, I am too skinny, too pale, too ugly. I don't like myself. But she does.

Why, I want to ask, why do you think of me so. But I don't. No, I can't be so bold. I can't speak my mind.

I'm just a good girl.

She grabs my bag. We leave.

Into the car; black, sleek, elegant. My father is already gone.

She talks to me on the drive. I listen, look out the window, watch the rain fall still. It hasn't let up and I'm glad. The wetness on my skin when I exit the car reminds me of Africa, of the glorious rain blessed to us after the long droughts.

She walks me inside the school, guides me to my class and hands me my bag, my books. A gentle hand on my shoulder, a reassuring squeeze.

You'll do great, she says, just keep your head up.

I nod; I will.

She smiles and leaves. I turn and enter into the classroom. People stare at me when I do, eyes wide and jaws dropped.

Why, I want to ask.

I don't.

Ah, the teacher at the front says. It's a female – short black hair in bun, gray eyes staring at me, a smile on pink lips. Tiny Japanese body.

You are Sakai Sen, aren't you, she questions.

I smile, grip my books to my chest, take a deep breath.

No turning back.


	2. Chapter 2

They stare at her with eyes wide, dropped jaws. She is nothing like what they thought she'd be like. Coming from Africa? And yet she was so pale, so even toned.

"You are Sakai Sen, aren't you?" the teacher at the front of the room asks in perfect Japanese, staring at the beautiful teen with shocked eyes. Even she had been expecting someone so... different.

"Yes," replies the girl, long black hair hanging down her back, though it's tied in a high ponytail. The girl's green eyes show her nervousness, her fear and anxiety. But there's something else, hidden behind everything. No one can notice it, though.

The teacher nods, motions to the front of the room. Sakai Sen moves elegantly to the front and stares at the students, all looking back at her with their eyes still wide, still examining her tiny body.

"G-Good morning," Sen starts, bowing grandly. "I am Sakai Sen. I am seventeen years old and have lived in Africa for the last eight months. I travel the world often with my father, Sakai Mireo, and we own homes all around the globe. I... I enjoy reading, and learning. Please be good to me."

It comes out as a rush of words, a jumbled group of sounds that make little sense.

The teacher claps her hands once, stands up from her seat and motions to an empty desk, far to the back. "Alright, so go take a seat, Sakai-chan, and I'll get all your papers. I'll be back in a little, so just wait, okay?" She winks to the nervous girl and leaves the room soon after.

At the front of the room, all alone, Sen stares at the rest of the class for a moment, seeing their eyes staring into hers.

She doesn't wait for anything then, quickly going to her seat and getting herself in order, ready to start learning, to get this day over with and go back home.

"Why do you look so nervous, princess?" a gentle voice, as soft and smooth as silk, says. Her eyes are torn away from her studies as she looks towards a pretty blond boy, leaning on her desk, his face inches from her own.

A blush takes on her face, why is he so close?

"It's... It's such a change," she admits, leaving out the part that she hadn't been to a school in eight months. She raises her hands and plays with her hair, turning her head and looking out the window, the rain falling just as it was before.

"Isn't rain such a depressing thing?" he questions, leaning closer to her side, trying to know her, to figure her out.

"Not at all!" She smiles, looks at him. Such a beaming smile, the boy realizes. She's beautiful. Sen realizes how outgoing she had been, sinking back into herself and blushing madly, ashamed. Such a stupid outburst. "I mean, I don't think so. I enjoy it, actually. Doesn't it make you feel something different? The sun, the moon... you can see those from anywhere in the world. But the clouds only drop this particular sheet of water on one place. It's... Enlightening."

She smiles; he doesn't understand.

"What an interesting way of thinking of it," he lies. A gentlemanly smile is shown from his pink lips, his features so beautiful. Sen finally looks at him, notices those violet eyes, the blond hair and the beautiful sheen it holds over his pale face, though not nearly as pale as her own. "My name is Suoh Tamaki. Myself and that boy over there-" He motions his hand to a dark haired scholar with glasses and continues. "Kyoya Ootori – run what is known as the Host Club here at Ouran! We're not open today, but if you come by the Third Music Room, I'd be more than happy to introduce you to the rest of the club!"

She smiles. "That sounds like a splendid idea."

"Great!" A large, goofy smile takes over his face, before he realizes it. As soon as he does, though, he smoothly changes it into a seductive grin, a more manly look. "So, we will wait for you there, then. Don't keep us waiting for long, though, princess; I'm sure the others will be more than excited to meet you, as well."

She smiles again, watches him walk away, join the one he had stated as being Kyoya Ootori earlier.

But as if nothing had happened, she returned to reading her book.

That class – Enriched Math – had ended quickly. She knew the answers, even without having gone to school. She knew everything they were teaching, already ahead of the others in her grade. For part of the class, Sen had even helped tutor one of her classmates – the one who sat in front of her, a Miss Kinhota Misami. Others joined, and she explained elegantly, skillfully of the hidden tricks that made the complex problems much easier.

Next was Physical Education, which, too, passed easily. All those months, working on the fields, carrying heavy equipment, had definitely honed her body to the most fit it could be. Others watched her carefully as she moved, watched as long limbs moved elegantly through every obstacle thrown at them.

Third period consisted of Art class. Never had she been skilled in anything of the arts. She could not play a musical instrument, could not draw anything ever resembling what she wanted it to be. The majority of the hour was spent strictly on being retaught things she had never learned but was said to have known, such as how to properly grip a drawing pencil, how to correctly trace a piece of work.

Then it was lunch.

As she sat down in the cafeteria, all alone at a secluded table next to a garbage can – one that everyone avoided strictly because of that fact – she opened her messenger bag, handed to her by the woman from that morning.

Others watched her, curious. A new girl, who Tamaki already took a liking to, who excelled at close to everything she did.

Suoh Tamaki and his group of six others were some of the many staring.

"That's her," he says proudly, as if he's introducing his sister, his girlfriend, his mother. "She'll be coming to the Club after school today for a one-on-one introduction. Everyone must be in attendance."

Hitachiin Hikaru and Kaoru – twins of exactly the same appearances – stared in wonder as she grabbed out a bento box and delicately tasted the rice. Her eyes dropped suddenly, a glimmer in them disappearing instantly.

"What's she doing?" they asked in unison as she stood before the garbage can, tipping her bento box over top of it, watching as the hand-made sushi, rice, and meat fell to the trash.

And as if nothing had happened, she gathered her things and walked out of the cafeteria, leaving the table to seven to ponder what entirely had just taken place.

"Damn rich bastards..." Fujioka Haruhi muttered under her breath, the large brown eyes that took away from her boyish appearance angering slightly. How could she just throw away such good and expensive looking food like that? It just showed how much she actually _didn't _understand the rich society. After all, she was only a commoner, sent here on scholarship.

"What's her name?" Haninozuka Mitsukuni – also known to others as 'Honey' – asked happily, a smile spread on his bright face, even though he, himself, was curious as to her actions. Was she really just one of those rich girls who refused to eat to keep their figure? Or was there something more to it?

"Sakai Sen," Ootori Kyoya responded, coolly pushing the frames of his glasses up a slender and angled nose. He was beautiful, dark and monotonous. Like clockwork elegantly planned, the other four who hadn't met – and knew of the Sakai name – gasped. Haruhi did not, given that she did not understand of the wealth and power that the Sakai family had in their grasps.

"Why is the family back?" Hikaru asked first, a second question being spoken from his identical and younger twin.

"Weren't they in Australia for some reason...?"

Kyoya nods. "Yes, they were in Australia for three months after leaving Japan initially, then they went to Africa for eight."

Honey squeezes his stuffed pink bunny tightly to his chest, down casting his eyes and staring at nothing in particular, his body tense and tight. Now he understands. Is that why they're having the one-on-one with her? Because she was the victim of _that?_

"Tama-chan, you know, don't you?" Honey asks in a dangerous tone. For a moment, Tamaki's nervous; what should he say? How does such an innocent boy like Honey – though older than Tamaki himself – know of such a tragic thing?

"How... How do you know about that, Honey?" is all the Suoh boy manages to mumble. Others stare between the two with wonder, all but Kyoya. He knows, too; he's the one who initially told his idiotic friend of the situation.

"I was the one who ended the situation she was placed in. Her father contacted mine, and..." Honey shook his head, hiding his face in the stuffed animal. "I never liked her. But seeing her that day made me think of her every night. Seeing her now, like that, is so relieving."

Tamaki goes to apologize for having to make Honey remember, for having to make him cry like he is, but before he can, Haruhi speaks.

"What happened?" she asks innocently.

Tamaki sighs, places his head on the table and awaits his best friend to begin speaking.

Kyoya clears his throat.

"It was a tragedy..."


	3. Chapter 3

Throughout the story, Morinozuka Takashi – more widely known as simply 'Mori' – hadn't said a word. Honey had made much of a point of interrupting needlessly, of correcting a small detail and adding gore to such an innocent statement, making sure everything was as the small blond had remembered.

And though Mori knew far too much about the current subject, he refused to interject, to make this story more real than it already was.

After Honey had the nerve to reveal some of the more excruciating details of the tragedy, Kyoya nodded and continued on after being interrupted.

Soon after, Haruhi cut off the black haired beauty, staring directly at the stone-eyed giant who had been silent since they'd seen the girl of question.

"Mori-sempai," Haruhi asked quietly. Any voice louder would seem out of place, she knew. Speaking of such a terrible subject, bringing up horrid memories that far too many seemed to know of... It only seemed right to keep it under the strictest of small voices. "Did you hate her like Honey-sempai did?"

The black haired kendo-champ stared in wonder, what was she asking? It took a moment for the reality of the situation he was placed in to take account of itself. Did he hate Sakai Sen?

"No," he answered plainly.

Mori knew his cousin, Honey, hated her. With a passion, as he remembers, a hate brought on because Honey recalls her being everything he was unable of being. While the blond teen had been struggling of hiding his real self from everyone else, she excelled at it, and for that, he hated her. Hated her so intensely Mori remembers all the spars that had turned far too serious because of her name being mentioned.

He, on the other hand, didn't. It was impossible for him to.

"Um..." Haruhi continued on. "Why not?" As if she noticed the way the two words sounded, she raised her hand and shook her head. "I-I don't mean, 'why don't you hate her, she's horrible!', I just mean... Well, why do you like her?" Once again, she noticed how rude that sounded, shaking her head and beginning to fix her question in a round-about way once more.

Mori shook his head, cutting her rant short.

"She was loyal," he admits. "And strong."

Of course, that's what she was. He remembers, at that one party that started this unfortunate turn of events, watching as she stood beside the father who had shaped her into the fine lady she was that night, watched as she concealed a shaking body as weak as plywood, as she made sure to force herself to another room – the empty hall, the bathroom, outside – before leaning against a wall and gaining her composure.

"Ah..." Haruhi states, though she doesn't understand. "What do you mean by that?"

Genuinely, she's confused. In the story that had been told, Sen had not been strong at all, had not been loyal to anyone. Even Kyoya, himself, said that she used and left people as frequently as she blinked. He, the man who did everything for value, admitted that she was the most devious person he could have imagined, back then.

"She did everything for her father," Mori explained. "She did not leave his side, even if he was mean. She stood by him and stood strong."

The curious girl nodded, letting the matter be and allowing Kyoya to continue with the story.

"She suffered from extreme trauma after the event. When she awoke the next day, she didn't remember anything," Kyoya finishes. He folds his hands, one over the other, staring at the three who had not known the tale. Each of them were wide-eyed, jaws dropped, only Hikaru expressing any form of anger.

"How is that even possible?" he cries.

Before answering, Kyoya clears his throat; he had been awaiting this question to be asked. "Humans are complex creatures. If there is an event, or tragedy – such as this – that invokes intense feelings in someone, one's brain could block it from the memory and create the illusion that it hadn't happened. It's not uncommon, especially if the target of this is younger in age." With pale hands, he pushes the square glasses up his nose, looks to the two boys, completely unable to tell them apart from the other, even after all the years they had spent together due to the Host Club.

"How about everyone else? She came here before the accident; why did she come back?" one of the twins – Kaoru, although they couldn't tell – asks.

"She had been gone to Australia and Africa for a total of twelve months, perfectly totaling a year. As it was told to my father, the Sakai head decided that it would be best for his daughter to live in solitude for a while, to forget and rejuvenate. They lived in the outskirts of Australia, in the Red Desert. In Africa, they lived in the middle of nowhere. In both places, they built their own home and lived with the things they had around them. In Africa, they had apparently raised their own food, as well." He scoffs, closes his eyes. "At least, this is what I've read in the letters the Sakai head had sent to my father." A pause, then a continuation of the facts. "Twelve months they had been away. I hear that Tamaki's father had accepted a proposition by the Sakai head. Because of the horrible incident, they were to remove any and all traces of Sakai Sen from the walls, the memorials and anything that even indicated that she had gone to Ouran before. In a year this was to be done, lest the Suoh family not be granted the assistance of the Sakai family for whatever reason they needed."

"So Tamaki's dad was blackmailed," Haruhi clarified.

"Essentially, yes." Kyoya holds back a smile as he sees his idiotic blond friend get angry.

"He was not!" said idiotic blond exclaims in mock anger, though he simmers down immediately after Kyoya gives him a hard stare.

"If he did or did not is not our business, but the fact that she has been successfully eradicated from the walls of this school means that something had happened, be it of bribe, blackmail, or pity. The others who knew of her had either graduated, were not in the High School section, or had been bought to keep their silence. I know that, because I and my family knew her, we were paid a large sum of money to forget of her and the incident."

Honey nodded, confirming this fact. "My family, too."

Mori as well nodded, though he did not say anything.

"And more than likely, the Suoh's were paid, too," Kyoya continued, giving a sinister smile soon after. "Or they were blackmailed."

"But... If she was so smart as to be in the eleventh grade when she was supposed to be in the ninth, why didn't she just graduate while she was gone for the year?" Kaoru asks again. He was actually legitimately interested in this story; everything seemed so far-fetched, so made up and unrealistic. Such a strange chain of unfortunate events...

"Being different, too smart, and too skilled had made the tragedy happen in the first place," Kyoya states. "So her father decided against making her anymore of a target and, given that she remembered nothing of her grade eleven year or the events thereof, he decided it would be a good idea to enroll her as a normal sixteen year old and have her complete grade eleven once again, but with like-kin."

Kaoru shook his head; too much of this was so strange, so hypothetical and questionable. Yet it made sense, a lot of it did.

Eventually he decided it was useless to question anymore and fell silent.

Before anyone could continue on with the subject of Sakai Sen and the past that had been bought into secrecy, the warning bell for class rang. One by one they stood, left, and continued on with the rest of their day.

Haruhi sat in her fourth-period Biology class, just thinking of the things she had been told. All about that girl who seemed too odd, too strange and shy. She had avoided everyone, sitting at a table empty and unideal. She had thrown out perfectly good food like a spoiled brat, even though that idea had been set aflame by the tale she had just heard. A spoiled brat was far from what she actually was.

Mori, similarly, was thinking of the girl with the stark black hair, the green eyes that took in too much, too fast, remembering and extracting every detail of every object, of every person and situation. He remembers knowing her, one year ago, of he being a sophomore and she, of only fourteen years of age, being in his grade.

He remembers seeing her laugh, seeing her being a fool in front of everyone, of mocking the teachers and making friends of anyone.

But then he remembers her being serious, of forgetting and concealing who she actually was at school when around her father.

And the party. Yes, he remembers the party, of her initial introduction into high society, of her speech and the horrible look in those emerald eyes.

_"My name is Sakai Sen,"_ rings through his head as he blocks out the grade twelve math lecture he is receiving from the teacher upfront.

He remembers how beautiful she looked, standing in a cream-and-green ballgown with a tight waist, large flowing bottom. Her hair was short, then, to her shoulders and curled into perfect ringlets that rested upon small shoulders.

_"And though the fact that I have been adopted into the Sakai family is evidently apparent..."_

Mori smiles slightly, thinking of the time the two of them had interacted in the one of two classes they had together where Honey was not present, as he visualizes in his head that wide, toothy smile she gave him when she declared, 'I think you're pretty cool, Takashi-chan.'

The only one to ever call him by such an embarrassing nickname so innocently, so nonchalantly. It was as if speaking to him with his first name – though only having been in the school for little over two months and seeing him for far less than that – and referring to him with such a childish suffix was second nature, something expected of her.

_"I ever so wish you respect me as a heir to the Sakai fame, fortune, and business, and as such allow me to prove my worth to you through my actions and achievements."_

She had soul, back then, back before everything went wrong. She was skilled and strong, with a good head on her and a heart that was more-or-less in the right place.

But he also remembers all the people she had used, of all those boys she had dated for a few weeks before 'allowing' them to break her heart and leave her.

Of course, she had said it was a game. It was what needed to be done.

'For my father's sake,' she constantly assured.

It was always for her father, for the 'well-being of the Sakai name'.

Such a puppet, Mori thought back then, she was nothing but a pawn for her father.

_"I am of the Sakai line, now, and though I am not a member by birth, I will fully withhold the traditions, integrity, and pride that has been passed down through this name."_

She was so stupid. So daft and blinded by the theatrical kindness her adoptive father had given.

_"And because of this, I can assure you; I will not stand by and watch horrible things happen."_

Yet, before things had gone horrible, he loved that idiot.


	4. Chapter 4

4:15 pm.

Sakai Mireo stared out his office window, watching as the tiny cars below frantically moved throughout the maze of streets that is Japan.

A long day it had been, and now piles upon piles of papers were strung upon the oak desk of his, previously cluttered with post-it notes and pictures of a family that existed in memories alone.

Who knew, he thought idly, that one year away could produce so much missed work. Though he had assigned only the most skilled and worthy people to watch over his multibillion dollar company, he still had so much left to do. Had they not been doing their jobs, or was he simply paying them their large salaries to sit and look pretty?

"Sakai-san?" a female voice calls pleasantly. The blue eyes of the blond man refuse to look up, instead focusing on the long report he is reading about the recent transaction that had occurred between his business and another's Instead, he gives a small grunt of approval, and the young woman takes a few steps into the neat-and-organized room, save for the desk. Her heels click elegantly against the pale wood, the gray pencil skirt and white blouse she wore such an elegant mixture for the black-and-white monotone of the rest of the office. "You have a visitor. May I direct him in?"

At this, Mireo looked up, staring into the wide green eyes of his secretary, at the way she had tied back her brown hair ever so delicately, taking only the utmost of detail into making sure the heated styling of her curls were accentuated by the bun they were arranged in. In a form, this woman – Miss Hiyashi Kana – was a similarity of his daughter, though he would never call her that. Beautiful, well dressed, perfectly in sync with herself and ever-so respectful to him.

"Of course," he replied easily, returning his pen to paper as he signed the umpteenth paper that house.

Moments later walked in a well dressed and obviously-prestigious man, clad in only the darkest of fabrics for his suit, a top hat being taken off by older hands to reveal a head of black hair, serious brown eyes staring at the man behind the desk through square, gold rimmed glasses.

"Mireo," stated the visitor. Upon seeing his friend, the Sakai head stood from his seat, walking around his desk to meet and greet the man he had not seen in a year, yet had spoken to often.

"Yoshio," replied Mireo, his hand outstretching to shake that of his companion's. It was ignored and, instead, the two took part in a short but meaningful embrace. It had been too long, they both knew, since they had seen one another face-to-face. How much had changed? Judging by the grim look on his comrade's face, Mireo only presumed that a lot had gone array since their last form of communication.

"I heard of your adventures in solitude," joked the older Ootori patriarch, taking a seat before the desk, Mireo joining in the seat beside him instead of that of the one behind the desk.

"Yes, it was quite an experience. I must admit that Sen certainly did enjoy it. Though she wouldn't admit it to me willingly, she was quite sad to leave and come back. Yet I figured enough time had passed. Was I correct in this?"

"A year is a long enough time for one to forget something," assured Yoshio. "But I'm afraid that, in a year, my second has found and asked the hand of his bride-to-be. It appears our initial plan has been ruined."

At this, the Sakai leader sighed, sinking deeper into his seat. "How unfortunate..."

"Of course, there is always my youngest."

Mireo shook his head vigorously. "I won't allow that to even be a possibility. Your third knows too much of the situation to be considered a safe possibility for her. I do not want to wed Sen off to someone who has the leverage against her." He sighed again, closing his eyes and rubbing the space between his high brows. "I do wish her to be the bridge that would unite our two companies, Yoshio, but I simply _cannot _take that risk. To see her in such a form, struggling to live on like she was that day... It would simply crush me."

Yoshio had sighed then, aswell, giving up all hope of having two of the larger companies in Japan ever being formed into the largest in the country through marriage. It was a lost cause now, all thanks to one stupid, miserable relationship that had occurred a year ago.

"My son is not someone to hurt a woman relentlessly. You know just as well as I that he takes to the consideration many feelings and aspects of each he meets and converses with. Never have I heard of him raising a hand against another or of ruining a relationship that would cost the Ootori family a friend." Both stared at one another for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, before Mireo sighed for the third – and last time – and nodded.

"I guess it must be done, then." He stood, as did his visitor, and together they shook hands with identical smiles on either of their faces. "We will seal our wealth with the marriage of Sen and Kyoya, then. I trust you will arrange for the preparations for your son, as I will my daughter?"

"They are already in place, my friend," Yoshio responded proudly. "All that needs to be done is to inform your daughter-"

"Please," Mireo interrupted. "Please do not call her my daughter."

"My apologies," states the Ootori head, nodding his head and instead continuing with his sentence instead of question as to why. "As I was saying, though, all that is needed to be done is to have you contact Sen and inform her of this decision, and then I will phone my son and tell him to initiate what must be done. After that, it is all mere planning."

With a strong pulse from their intertwined hands, the two formed a bond. Not even moments after, Mireo picked up his phone and began to dial the number of his adopted child.

It was best that she understood her place.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't want to be here. Never did. They are nothing, no one. I don't need them, never did, never will.

Yet I am here. Not for me, not for them. For him. He, who raised me. He, who saved me.

Father.

Yes, everything is for him. I am his good girl. Just his good girl.

Obey, listen. Ignore everything, do what father says. It's a routine; I know it well. The rules are customary, all I know.

They stare at me with kind eyes, looking at me, watching. Why, I want to say, why do you look at me so?

I don't.

Thank you, is what I actually say. They stare now, confused.

You don't need to thank us, says the beautiful one. Tamaki, the boy who took my breath away. Beautiful... Kind. Stunning.

Perfect.

My mouth opens, going to say more.

My phone rings, I don't speak.

Instead I reach down and grab it from my bag. It's small, purple. A Blackberry, bought to keep in contact with a father who hardly cares.

The caller ID is blinking white.

'Father'.

I click the button, answer, speak.

Good evening, father, I say politely.

I have news to tell you, he says, where are you?

News is odd. Never have I had news that he's phoned me for, never have I heard him with such a serious tone.

At school, in a club, I respond. There's no answer.

Good, I think. I don't like talking to him; he never has good things to say. He's always about work, always busy, always not caring. Everything, just a charade. Everything, just a lie. A perfect, elegant lie we've grown with, content with.

Nevertheless, you are to marry Ootori Kyoya, he finally says.

I want to scream then. No, I am not, I want to say. I will not do that, never! I am a human, I make my own decisions. You marry an Ootori, you join them together. Not I.

I understand, is what I say instead.

I hear him sigh, relieved. You're a good girl, he says.

He's happy; he told me I'm good. I did something right, he's proud. I'm a good girl, I'm fine.

I'll be okay, no matter who I marry, who I end up with, what happens to me or how unhappy I am.

He's happy.

I'm his good girl.

Kyoya already knows, he continues, his father will be phoning him shortly.

He hangs up without a word. I stare at the screen for a moment, lock it, put it in my bag.

My eyes go to the beautiful boy with the black hair, gray eyes, lean body. The one named Kyoya, said by Tamaki. He stares at me, sighs, grabs his phone. I wait, watch, listen, try not to cry.

My life; ruined. Everything, gone. No hopes, no dreams. No nothing, just empty.

His phone rings, he answers, says Hello.

Yes, father, he says plainly, I understand.

He hangs up, puts the phone away, digs into his bag for something.

I'm sure you've heard from your father, he says, passes a box.

I open it, look. A ring, silver with a beautiful stone. A diamond, in a large size.

I'm sorry, I say. But for what? What am I sorry for, I don't know.

He smiles, shakes his head, puts the ring on my finger because I am reluctant to.

It's for business, he assures. Yet I don't feel better.

I smile, nod my head.

I understand, I say, but if you'll excuse me, I should get home to arrange things with my father.

He smiles to me, nods. I say nothing as I leave.

Down the stairs, to the right, out the door.

Into the car, down the street.

It's then that I break down and put my head in my hands.

My life; ruined. Everything, gone.

Tears flow, I sob.

God, how pathetic am I. I swore, anything for the business, anything for father.

Yet here I am. Crying, sad about something needing to be done.

Suck it up, I tell myself, it's nothing.

I wonder, maybe, if it's always worth it to be his good girl.


	6. Chapter 6

The incident had been horrific. It had been horrible. It had been something to write about, something to post onto the front page of every newspaper. Unfortunately, it had never been allowed that far.

It all started at the party, to where she made her introduction into the high class. It was there where things began to fall apart, once she had so bluntly stated that she would not stand by and watch horrible things happen.

It had concerned that man, then, the one who was never named. The one who had never been caught, who could never be identified because the one witness could never remember, no matter what.

He was worried; he did many bad things, things that could get him killed, get him jailed. And here she was, stating that she wouldn't watch it, but that she would act against it.

And that is exactly what Sakai Sen had done. She learned of that man's crimes, exploited them to his face and warned him, verbally, that she would take this farther if it didn't stop.

So he hit her, kidnapped her, took her away and threatened her in a warehouse.

The exact time she had been kept there is unknown to any who onlooked, but Sen knew. So did he. It had been exactly three days and twenty two hours before anyone had even concerned themselves about her and her whereabouts; her father thought she was on a business meeting. There was never any reason to be concerned.

But then the maid went missing, too. The one she called 'Mom', the one she told everything to.

The Sakai head was worried, once she hadn't shown up to work that second day, once his daughter hadn't phoned in; his heir was gone without a trace.

Sen was forced to sit there, to stare through her bloodshot eyes as that man cruely threatened the mother she wished she had, as he took weapon after weapon against that worker's flesh, against Sen's own. She screamed out, but was silenced by tape.

Nothing worked. The stakes were too great; the only way to win her and the maid's freedom was by sabotaging everything she had worked so hard to make. To go back home, to take herself from her father's family, to destroy the company by planting small but meaningful accidents to all their business partners.

That business meant more to her than he life.

So did pleasing her father.

Sen watched, wildly, as that maid bled to death before her eyes.

It was almost her turn – her body ached with the bruises and the starvation, her body so dehydrated she was hallucinating. She thought it was just a crazy dream when she saw that door smash open, seen Haninozuka Mitsukuni and that dashing, beautiful Morinozuka Takashi there, beating up all those who remained.

But he had fled before. Knew something was wrong. Left.

It had been Takashi that had released her from the bindings she was put in, who had been cruelly slapped and pushed away, who had to watch as she ran from him, tears streaming down her face and a scream trying to fight its way out of her throat.

It was Takashi who had chased after her, first. He who had found her, a little after, against a tree in the middle of nowhere, crying against the bark.

"It's my fault!" she screamed, over and over, clinging to that wood as if it were the salvation, the redemption, she was seeking so desperately. "I killed her!"

He had no choice but to knock her out and take her back.

Sakai Mireo had been contacted as soon as they were on the plane back home, his daughter safe but unconscious. It was he who had bought out any and all publishers who he believed might even begin to get the scoop on what had happened. It was he who threatened every television company, every broadcaster, anyone who could get the information on the incident. It was he who cleaned it up, who made so many deals with people he could hardly count on.

It was he who made a fresh start for the woman he would never even speak to before.

When she awoke, she remembered nothing.

The police could not speak to her, for she panicked, questioning what she did wrong, worrying about her family's business. She was calm, then, no where near the happy self she had once been when not in the presence of the cold man she called father. Everything had changed, specialists said it was Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

It wasn't soon after that they moved, escaped the hustle and bustle of Japan to just... get back to normal.

Mireo began to speak to the one he called his heir, began to think of her as more than just a tool he had acquired from an orphanage, long ago. It was the first time in years that he had seen how smart she actually was.

It was the start of something, but no one knew what.

Takashi couldn't sleep for weeks after that, too stuck on the image of her body. So small, so broken. Bruises and cuts, dry blood and deformed welts of where she had been burned. What had happened? He hadn't dare to ask.

Ootori Yoshio had, though, and he received the fast and brief, to which he had passed onto his sons for safe keeping.

To which he passed onto his friends when he found out she was coming back to Ouran, a whole year after the incident shook her from her mind.

A wild and unlikely event...

Something dreaded and feared. Something never thought to ever happen.

When you're rich, though, anything is possible.

Everyone is your enemy.

**[Author's Note]**

** Hm. Some will say this is far-fetched. But is it? Think about it; if you're a mobster, wouldn't you kill? You see it in movies all the time, and in real life quite often.**

** So it's not really far fetched. It just depends on how you look at it, I guess. And I DID do research on this! I was pretty proud of myself. The human mind is so damn intricate... dammit. Thank you Reader's Digest, though! Lol.**

** Anyways. Just wanted to clarify that I know a lot of you will probably think this is a really stupid incident that's ruined Sen's life. But... Whatever. I honestly couldn't really care any less than I do, since I'm writing this for my own amusement and less for yours... But I do still care what you think about it! I'm just not going to change it because of what you say. So please write a review or message me to tell me what you think about this obviously-stupid explanation! I'd love to hear about it!**

** Thank you all for reading, by the way! And those who review; you keep me going. I love you all, in the most un-freaky way possible! **

** PS. New chapter will be up tomorrow. I promise; it goes hand in hand with this one.**


	7. Chapter 7

Pale fingers against paler paper. No difference; similar.

They flip through the pages, elegantly, slowly, gently. My body is sore, sad. Marriage? No, I don't want it. I don't want to throw my life away, don't want to be forced into a lonely relationship with a stranger. A beautiful stranger.

The fingers stop on a page with elegant script, a name and number, an address and a scribbled note.

My diary I hold, the page is special. It's hidden, among all the other pointless writing I've put in there over the years to disguise its real use.

There, it's there.

My mind fights; should I, or no? If I do, then they'll know.

If I don't, I'll cry again, break down, scream and smash things.

Marriage.

How horrible.

Those pale fingers grab a whiter phone, its keys gray and screen shining black. No input, no commands. Just blank, indecisive.

Like me.

The black ink calls to me; my mind screams no, my heart screams yes. Those digits dial the numbers written on the paper, hovering over the green 'Talk' button, the other over the opposite.

'Takashi-chan's number!'

I want to click talk, to put that phone to my ear and listen for that voice, the one that used to comfort me, used to speak so freely to me, used to laugh and say nothing at all. Want to hear him, hear his shock, his concern, his astonishment as he finds out.

I know.

I remember.

I've never forgotten.

Too many things in my mind, too many things to focus on. It's always been there, always at the back, always haunting.

Mom... My poor mom.

Dead.

Why?

Because of my pride, because of my indecisiveness.

Fools.

I never cared.

No.

A monster.

Yes, I am.

Monster.

Horrible.

Demon.

Murderer.

Tears fall, again.

I flip over on my bed, hide my face, sob as my mind insults itself, over and over.

Murderer.

Murderer...

She's gone.

He's nowhere to be found, the assistant.

Takashi? He doesn't know me.

I don't know him.

Strangers, completely.

Panic. Fear. Shock.

So much to feel.

So little time.

So little emotion.

Everything is gone.

No more panic.

No more fear.

No more shock.

Am I a murderer? Or smart?

Am I a monster, or just resourceful?

I feel nothing.

I am nothing.

Nothing.

A puppet in a play, lonely strings and only one character.

Me.

Forever.

This play never ends.

Never.

Just me.

For ever and ever and ever.

Always alone.

Always a murdered.

Always a puppeteer's monster, a horrible and ugly creation of the demon's soul.

Pale fingers click the red button and I throw the phone, hits the wall, shatters.

I scream into the pillow, clench my fists, bite my lips, taste the blood as they bleed.

Why, I want to scream, why does everything happen at the most inopportune times? Even back then, when everything had been going so right, when I had finally thought I had the courage to take on the world, to take on him...

And now, when I finally found him, finally able to make a new beginning, a new start, open up and slowly become who I was.

No.

Nothing works out right.

My plans fail, die, blow up or implode.

Nothing goes right.

There's a knock. I pull myself together, sit up, call out for them to enter.

It's the maid, the new one, standing with the phone in her hand.

It's Ootori Kyoya, she says with a blush on her face, as if she's the one marrying him.

Go ahead, I want to say to her, marry him if you want. I'm fine without him, fine without another problem, another headache, another heartache.

Thank you, I say instead.

I take it from her, put it to my ear, say hello.

Ah, hello, the voice responds from the other end. It's him, he who I dislike, whom I'm forced to be with until death.

Hello, I say again.

The host club is going on a weekend getaway to a small town, he states, you'll be coming, so bring a bathing suit; there's a beach nearby.

I will, I state back, thank you for informing me.

There's a silence between us, like I knew there'd be.

A sigh, then a goodbye from him, followed by one from me.

I hang up, sigh, fall back into my bed. It swallows me, suffocates.

It's in that moment that I want it to stop my breathing, halt my lungs, take all the oxygen from my blood and just kill me.


	8. Chapter 8

Sen stood outside the school building, waiting patiently for them to descend and take her with them onto this trip she had been told so little about.

They stood around the window, watching below and counting the seconds until the deathly silence was broken.

Tamaki got to at least two and a half minutes before his best friend had even dared to say anything.

"She'll be coming with us," Ootori Kyoya stated simply, pushing his glasses up the length of his nose and moving away from the group. It was awkward to talk about, they all knew – his arranged marriage to the girl with the odd past – and had avoided conversation of it for as long as was possible. They knew it had to be said at sometime, and that the heavy feeling in the air would return as it had yesterday.

While the others broke away one-by-one from staring, Kyoya sighed; why was this happening? Of course, that was a stupid question to ask himself, he knew. It was for the business, for his father, for his future. There was no avoiding it – there was no way to say no to his father. Yet some part of him couldn't help but regret the decision to suppress his opinion on the matter when it had been approached to him. This wasn't what he wanted, and he knew most definitely that he would not be happy. Perhaps in fifteen, twenty years after marriage, but certainly not immediately.

Mori stood silently at the window, watching with just as little sound as usual, his eyes tracing the small curves of the girl below, focusing on her and her alone.

Thoughts and memories ran through his mind of the girl he used to know, the girl he knew now. Would she be happy with Kyoya? He remembers talking to her one day over a rice ball she always seemed to have, their hands picking at it gently as they spoke.

_"I like talking to you, Takashi-chan,"_ she had said back then.

He only smiled and took another bite, and the mere thought of his actions made him smile slightly, for no apparent reason.

_"Let's make a deal. If I'm thirty and you're thirty, and we're both single, let's get married, alright?"_

Mori laughs out loud a little then, silencing himself soon after as he recalls the statement she had made then, he being so tired that he could have passed out on her shoulder at the very moment those words had left her mouth. Yet he responded in a flirtatious tone the one thing he had been dying to say forever, molded into a sentence he had wished were true.

_"Is that a proposal?" _he remembers asking.

She had smiled that beautiful, gorgeous smile he wishes he could see once more. It was the true happiness that she never had anymore. The feelings that had been in her forever, something that had been lost as soon as her memories were.

_"Maybe," _she responded coolly, standing up. _"Or maybe it's a suggestion. Perhaps even a proposition. Or an idea. Actually, no, it's just a thought." _Her hand outstretched to him, and he cringes, regretting not grabbing that hand before she turned away from him with a laugh.

"Takashi!"

Caught off guard, the Morinozuka heir flinched, facing his cousin with wide eyes unusual to the giant senior.

"We're going now!" Honey calls happily, rushing forward and grabbing his relative by the hands and leading him towards the departing group before them.

For the minute and a half walk it takes to reach her, Tamaki talks idly about things unknown or uncared about by the others, only the two Hitachiin boys or the Fujioka girl responding with either insults or witty innuendos.

Sakai Sen slowly turns around as she hears the laughter and grumbles of the group, her mouth slightly agape and eyes red around the pupil. As she sees them stare at her, she smiles, takes a few steps forward before stopping and awaiting them to join her, though she more than halfheartedly expected them to walk past.

Eyes slowly glanced towards Kyoya, awaiting for either he or she to make the first, needed move that would determine how they reacted in turn.

She stared at him, too, her eyes pleading to meet his and figure out what's happening. But when his avoided her, she started speaking herself.

"I thank you for inviting me, Ootori-san," she said with a smile. "It's been a while since I've been on a vacation..."

He smiles back to her, opens the door to the sleek black limousine before them all. "Of course. As my betrothed, you'll be joining us on all our activities."

Perhaps it was only his imagination – or, perhaps, his inner hope – but Mori swore he saw the girl flinch at the word of 'betrothed', though she kept her smile entering the car.

The others enter one-by-one into the limo, each taking a seat in a random order.

"It's going to be a long drive," is that last thing said by the Ootori boy before the vehicle took off.

For the majority of the two and a half hour drive, the conversation consisted of Tamaki, Haruhi, the Hitachiin twins and Honey. Together, they spoke of useless things in order to avoid the gruesome alternative of silence.

At about the one hour mark into the drive, the others watched in silence as Sen slept, her head gently against the side of the car instead of on the shoulder of the one she was engaged to.

Mori gazed at her in disbelief; was this really happening? In that moment, he recognized the girl from the past, saw her apart from the woman that she had become in the past year. In that moment, as she looked so innocent and carefree, he fell back in love with her. God, how he had missed her. He knew that, he knew it so badly. His body ached to be near her again, to be laughing and talking about her, even though she did the majority of both when they were together, just speaking and walking around like they had no where in the world to be at that moment.

He closed his eyes then, too, leaning his head back and trying to fall asleep for himself.

From beside his relative, Honey stared back and forth between the two sleeping figures, watching helplessly as all the others slowly followed after their examples. First it was Haruhi, followed closely by a slightly-insulted – "Am I too dull for her?" – Tamaki, ending with the two twins and leaving only Kyoya and himself awake.

"Kyoya," Honey muttered quietly, his fingers intertwining and unraveling themselves from one another, over and over, eyes downcast to his busy digits.

The black-haired Ootori looked quizzically in the Haninozuka's direction; what was going on? Honey never called anyone but Takashi by their real name, insisting on adding a foolish 'chan' suffix to everything he could.

"Don't hurt her, 'kay?"

For a moment, Kyoya stared at his distracted companion, wide eyed, wondering what had gotten into his blond friend. Since when had Honey ever expressed an interest in the girl's happiness? He had stated all too clearly to them the previous day that he hated her with such a passion, despised the mere sound of her voice, loathed the look of her face. It was odd, the Ootori thought, to have the blond care about her now.

But he only smiled at the gesture, grinning darkly to himself.

"I won't."


	9. Chapter 9

By the time they arrived, the sun had slightly fallen, the blue sky gently turning into beautiful shades of orange and red.

Haruhi stood stiffly by the limo as the others unpacked themselves from inside, grabbing their bags as they exited from the trunk. She stared out into the magnificence of the setting sun with her large brown eyes, wondering just how badly this trip would go. Between the usual antics of the group and the new addition of Kyoya's fiance – which evidently made the whole crew of seven on edge, including herself – it was bound to become disastrous.

"It's beautiful, no?" came the soft voice of Sen, standing beside the Fujioka girl. It was then that Haruhi looked at the girl – really looked at her, examining her every bit of being – and realized just how beautiful and different they were, despite both being female and, apparently, desired by many. She, Sen, was tall with long limbs and a beautifully toned and pale body. She had eyes that clouded over when she spoke of things she remembered, that stared off endlessly when she wasn't. Lips that curled into the kindest of smiles, that seemed so kissable that even she, Haruhi, wanted to touch them with her own. She was nearly perfection, save for her past and the lack of certain memories.

"The sunset is harder to see from Japan," she continued on mindlessly, closing her eyes with a smile on her face, allowing the warmth of the sun to sink deeply into her skin. "Yet the sunrise is beautiful. Many take it for granted, the beautiful sight. It isn't until you go to another part of the world that you realize just how lucky you are to see it."

Haruhi stared at the odd girl for a moment, watching enviously as the light hit every bit of her face, how she seemed to glow with a heavenly aura about her.

"I hope we can be friends, Fujioka-chan," Sen stated sweetly, opening her eyes and smiling to her companion, knowing well enough that her companion who dressed like a boy was actually the opposite of.

Without another word, Sen gathered her two bags and left the shocked Haruhi to stand alone by the limo, the Hitachiin twins joining her soon after to watch the receding back of the Sakai heir.

"Woah," the two twins gaped in unison. "She knows?"

"Of course," Kyoya suddenly interjected, his own bags in his hand as he, too, began to walk off in the direction she had left to. "She knows most information about every student at Ouran. See who is important and who is not."

With that they nodded to each other, following after the lead of the two before them and walking off towards the hotel they were to be staying at.

Mori lagged behind the others as they entered into the grand and gorgeous building, his eyes set so intensely on the black haired beauty he knew all too well. Something was off about her, ever since they had exited the vehicle. She seemed... odd, at difference with herself in some way.

When she had stood beside Haruhi, he had noticed it then, too, more than ever. Her body – it was swayign ever so slightly, and when she closed her eyes, he saw her knees buckle, as if she had momentarily fell asleep instantly. Even now, as she walked, he saw her body struggling to remain upright and straight. Walking in a straight line even seemed difficult for her. What was wrong...?

It took only a few moments of observation for him to figure it out. He'd seen it time and time again from the stubborn girl. All those times he'd have to pick her up and carry her, all the times she would pass out in the middle of a game, all those times he would plea to her not to do this, not to torture her body so much...

_"I'm completely awake!" _she always used to counter when he begged.

He shook his head, putting both his and Mitsukuni's bag in one of his hands and hurrying up to the girl, touching her gently with his free hand to attract his attention.

Wide eyes stare back at him for a moment, the fear of a hunted animal found in them before they soften.

"Your bags," he says after an awkward pause. "Let me carry your bags."

"I-I'm fine!" Sen mumbled out cutely, smiling and shaking her head adorably, like a five year old who refused to be caught being weak.

_"I'm fine, Takashi-chan! Really!"_

Mori bit his lip idly as he remembered her happy voice back then, too, always declining his help, even if it meant she'd pass out as soon as he walked away from her. She was stubborn, always wanting to do things on her own, never wanting to impose on anyone. Even before, he had to be extra careful with her. She'd do anything, everything, just to be able to have free time to spend. He knew it more than anyone, how hard she worked, how many nights she would lose sleep, how often she would ignore her needs.

He ignored her wishes, then, reaching past her and grabbing both her bags from her two hands as if it was completely natural, as if he had known her forever.

Which he did, but she wouldn't remember.

To her, they were strangers.

She didn't remember him, of all the times he would do this exact same thing, of all the times he would pick her up and carry her sleeping body on his back.

She would never remember any of it.

"Y-You don't have to do that," she stuttered futilely, watching as he sped up his pace to avoid the others seeing him, her eyes tracing the length of his body.

Slowly, a blush took on her cheeks, top teeth biting on her bottom lip gently.

The others noticed it, though. They noticed the odd way Mori acted, the way she stared at him, how she lowered her head and smiled softly. They noticed how she now slightly swayed, how she couldn't keep her balance for too long.

And suddenly, Tamaki smiled, too, realizing just how well his friend knew this girl they had no idea about.

"Are you tired, princess?" Tamaki asked suddenly as they entered the elevator, door closing with a ding.

"P-Pardon?" she asked with a deep blush, almost afraid of being found out. "W-W-What do you mean?"

"How many days?" Mori interjected.

"I... I don't understand what you're asking," she lied.

"Without sleep," he clarified. "How many days?"

"None."

Tamaki smiled to her, hand landing on her shoulder. "Princess, there's no need to lie to us. We're merely concerned for your health. Please tell us the truth."

She stared into his caring violet eyes for a few moments, mouth agape at his statement. But then she sighed, gave up, began to shuffle her feet and downcast her eyes. "Two days before we left Africa... So it's been about five days without..." She looks up suddenly after, eyes wide and her hands raised as she smiles to the beautiful blond Suoh. "B-But I had a power nap in the limo, so I'm good!"

"Uh-uh!" cried the twins in unison again, marching out into the hall as the elevator arrive at the tenth floor of the hotel. "No good, Sen-san! You'll pass out soon! You need sleep!"

"Yes," Kyoya agreed, pushing his glasses up again as he opened one of the doors along the corridor. Room 1010. "You need to rest, Sakai-chan. It'll be a busy day tomorrow, so take it easy today."

Although the Ootori boy had initially only intended for the girl to enter alone, the whole group had walked into the room and gaped at the room's magnificence. There was a large double bed, a dresser, an in room washroom and gorgeous decorations all over. It seemed like a top class room, some place only celebrities would stay.

Yet they were rich and famous. They deserved rooms like this, rooms with mini-bars and stocked food, with the bouquet of flowers on the bed and rose petals scattered about it.

She gasped as she saw all the beautiful and elegant flowers about her room, covered her mouth and regained her composure before facing the man she was to marry.

He had done all this for her? Amazing.

"Just gain back your strength and sleep, alright? I don't want you holding us up tomorrow," Kyoya shot coldly, urging Mori to leave her bags on the floor.

And then they left, the door closing behind them and leaving her alone in the room, the petals suddenly losing their magnificence, the room suddenly dark and bland.

A sigh escaped Sen's lips as she moved to the window, as she stood there for what seemed like hours before she seen the group of seven leave the hotel, their heads thrown back in laughter.

Enviously she watched them, watched as they conversed and she was excluded because of her actions, the consequences to which she needed to pay in order to be apart of this outing.

Another sigh followed soon after, though, as she remembered how kind Mori had been, how he had so gently helped her and exposed her like he knew everything about her.

But of course he did. He always did.

As she collapsed on the bed, her eyes closing and her mind slowly turning itself off in exhaustion, she thinks of him.

**[Author's Note]**

** Hello, readers! Thank you for sticking with this tale for so long! It makes me so happy!**

** But I'm at a stand still. You see, I'm still undecided about a pairing in this story. Sigh. So I'm going to ask for your help in this matter! There's two ways this can go, either a Kyoya story or a Mori story. And I don't know which one I want to do, since it's so hard a choice!**

** So I've decided to let you, my lovely readers, decide. I'm going to put a poll up on my page, but it'd do just as well to post it in a review, if you wanted, as to who you think it should go as. Of course, I don't know if I can guarantee any happy endings to either... I've already thought up several different ways to end it with both pairings!**

** I do hope you'll vote or post a review about it or something. I'm truly undecided and devastated as to this fact.**

** Once again, though, thank you for reading it up until this point! There are probably a few dozen more chapters (lol, okay, maybe not that many) to go, but I do hope you'll still stay! I'll try my hardest, too!**

** Bye! ^^**


	10. Chapter 10

Sleep is useless for the busy.

Fifteen minutes I sleep, wake up, get my bag and begin.

Fifteen minutes is all that's needed. Enough to recharge, enough to end the haze, to stop the dizziness.

I lied to them. I know.

Purposely.

Sleep has come often, only two days before. Much more than usual, much more than I should be. Yesterday I had not slept. Too much work, too much to do. All the last minute things, all the plans needed to be canceled, the meetings and partners that had to be contacted... No time.

No rest.

No sleep.

The fatigue doesn't touch me.

I don't feel it.

I don't care.

I am nothing.

Everything I do is for him, father. I'm a good girl.

Good girls don't complain.

They don't get tired, don't pass out.

Good girls don't let themselves get in the way.

I lied. I know. I don't regret.

I am not tired. No, I'm an insomniac, workaholic, masochist. Don't care about myself, about my health.

Pointless.

But they don't need me. They are complete; seven perfectly, seven happily. Eight is too much, eight is too crowded. I cannot be there.

I must not be there.

Work has to be done. Yes, I don't mind. I don't care that I'm not included.

I don't feel heartache, petty things like jealousy or sadness. I don't have feelings anymore.

Heartless...

A monster. Yes, repeat it, over and over.

That's who you are, Sen.

A monster.

Heartless.

A creation of the darkest things of the master's mind.

That's all you are. Ignore your desires, your wants, focus only on daddy and the mad maker. Don't ask questions, don't disobey. Don't do anything or face the wrath of them both.

Don't disappoint, more than anything.

No, don't you dare disappoint, Sen.

Stockinged feet walk around the room a few times. Nothing to do, nowhere to go...

My phone.

Pale hands pick up the new phone of the pink color, careful not to break it, careful not to throw it. The red light blinks, blinks, blinks. Over and over, a shining LED indicating the worst.

I click a button, see the black screen light up. Fifty four missed messages, twelve missed calls, four voice-mails and twenty three Blackberry Messages.

I sigh as I hold a button, see the screen return to black, turn the phone over and remove the battery.

No. No work. No nothing.

End the habits, end the fear of forgetting. End the constant working, the paranoia of losing money, of failing, of disappointing.

Don't.

No, don't forget. You can't forget, Sen. Forget and fail. Forget and disappoint.

Never disappoint.

Reinsert the battery, flip over the phone, scroll through the messages and reply to them all. Listen to the voice mail, look at the callers, phone them back and confirm new dates for the meetings. Send the files, okay the plans, forget your normal life.

The plan plays in my head.

I do not act.

It screams in my head, the black, indecisiveness of the Blackberry screen mocking.

I do not think, only act.

It flies, hits the wall, shatters again.

I fall down, the yelling in my head so loud, the pain increasing as I realize what I am.

A failure. A disappointment. Falling into the pressure, caving to the expectations.

Tears well, fall, don't stop. I try to silence my screams, try to stop my mindless calls of nothingness as I curl on the floor.

What am I...?

A monster.

Repeat.

A monster.

Again.

A monster.

Feel it, deep down, the sting it brings to know that.

Heartless.

Feel it, the way it infiltrates your blood and burns.

A failure.

Feel the ache of a vanishing organ.

Heartless.

Tears fall harder, harder, hands grasping onto my hair as my knees touch my head, body curled like a child, a cat, a failure.

It's there that I cry until my mind begs for mercy, my body slowly, slowly succumbing to the desires I am not allowed to fulfill.

Sleep...

I curse at myself before the wave of unconsciousness hits again.


	11. Chapter 11

Ootori Kyoya stood outside room 1010, the duplicate keycard clenched tightly in his hand, clenched fist of his other hovering lightly over the white oak underneath the golden numbers.

White knuckles connected with whiter wood – one, two, three – before pulling his hand away and down to his side. The black haired, impatient and unruly boy waited for a few moments before inserting the card and pushing open the door with a weak, "Sakai-chan?"

The room was dark as he entered, though he was reluctant to turn it on. When the door closed with a light thud and he found himself scrambling through the blackness, though, he mustered up the courage to turn it on – who cared of what state she was in, right? He would see everything eventually, anyway...

A small gasp left his throat as he saw the girl before him, crumpled up on the floor like she was scared, hiding from something, a closed bottle of pills inches from her being.

Instantly, his mind traced back to the worst possible scenario, body lurching forwards to the pills, one hand reaching for the bottle and the other to his phone. Who would he call first? Tamaki? Or the police?

His eyes scanned the bottle, searching for any instructions to do in case of an overdose, any specific warnings. They widened as he noticed exactly what the drug was for.

Sleeping pills. Prescribed to Sakai Sen specifically, meaning that she didn't steal them off of anyone to kill herself with, but that her doctor had seen a legitimate reason to give her such a prescription. Somehow, that eased his mind, if only for enough time to examine the rest of the room.

To his left was broken bits of a phone long gone, the screen of a nearly-intact Blackberry shattered, the battery quite a bit away from the main body. To his right, a savaged bag with multiple items on the ground. A wallet, a day planner, two more empty bottles of the same drugs. Papers were thrown every which way, the bag itself discarded like trash, its designer name clearly meaning nothing to the girl in her moment of madness when the ransacking happened.

Suddenly, his beating heart – so scared of being involved with a suicide case and of the publicity that would come along with it – slowed to normal as he got off his knees and sat normally, one leg up and the other lazily positioned. There was no reason to worry, at least for the moment. He could see the small body of the uniformed girl heaving up and down, face hidden under her black hair.

Somewhere in the Ootori boy's being, he felt something odd. Pity, was it? Or comradeship? He knew far too well the pressures that came with an esteemed business, and – judging from the broken phone close by – he assumed she did, too. Perhaps she had merely been too upset the other night to fall asleep normally. Maybe this happened often, which is why she had so many bottles of sleeping pills.

He couldn't know without asking her, yet waking her rudely would be horrible for someone who seemed to have lost it the night before. Judging that the press hadn't found out about her particular condition, he assumed she wouldn't be all too thrilled to know that he found her in such a position as this.

So gently did his hand landed on her face, pushing away the black locks and trying to awaken her in the most warming of ways possible for he. Had this been anyone less possibly-destructive, he wouldn't have been so kind. Had this been Tamaki in a near fit of sorrow, he would have kicked the blond until he awoke. But this situation required much needed delicacy.

Slowly, her body moved, face leaning into his hand as her eyes gently floated open to reveal hazed over green orbs of sadness.

"O-" was all she was able to state before the haze vanished and her eyes darted up the rest of the way, body stiffening as she fumbled to sit up. "O-O-Ootori-san!" She moved slowly backwards, sliding across the carpet until her back hit the side of the double bed in the room.

"Sakai-chan, are you alright?" he asked cautiously, not moving towards her but staring at her eagerly with his gray eyes.

She stared back with shocked, scared eyes, her whole body tense with fear and... something more. Something he couldn't identify.

Frantically, her eyes scanned her surroundings, memories jumping back like the drunk man's sober thoughts. Sen sighed, then, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"I'm and insomniac," she explained. "I couldn't sleep longer than fifteen minutes. A-And then I started thinking about work, so I tried to do it! B-But..." She trailed off, turned her head in a different direction with eyes still closed. "But so many people are mad at me and – why am I telling you all this?" The last sentence came out as a fast rush of words, causing the Ootori boy to stare at her with something short of amusement.

A small smile broke onto his face as he realized just how... alike, they were.

He said nothing, though, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

"I'm sorry," she stated softly, voice hardly over a whisper.

Confused, Kyoya looked at her with eyes resembling his feelings. "What are you sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I... I'm holding you up, aren't I?"

He stared at her for a moment in amazement – she really remembered his harsh words from the other day? – before allowing a small smile to take his lips.

"Don't worry about that," he assured weakly. "They're only at the restaurant right now. It doesn't matter if we go or not."

She opened her eyes, then, stared right at him and raised her hands defensively. "N-No! I don't want to hold you up! P-Please, go without me!"

His smile returns again, so soft and sweet, she notices. "No, as my betrothed, you'll be accompanying me. I think it's only right that I wait for you, as well. So take your time to get ready." He stands up, walks a few steps towards her before offering his hand. Nervously, she accepts it, getting to her feet with his help. "It's a high class restaurant, and the others are all in formal wear. It would be best to wear something fitting."

She smiled to him, then threw herself into his chest with her hands wrapping around his torso, head underneath his chin.

"Thank you, Ootori-san," she stated before quickly releasing him and running into the washroom to change and get ready.

Kyoya stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just thinking of what could have ever brought that on.

A few moments later and he left to get dressed, himself.

There was a light knock on Sen's door hours later, her gloved hands opening it slowly to see the beautiful sight of the Ootori boy, his long body dressed in a gorgeous black suit.

He gaped at her for a moment, too, just as she was to him. For Sen looked stunning in her clothes, her makeup, her body. Long black hair was gently curled into large rings, her tall and lean frame holding onto a short cut and elegant red dress. Beautiful black heels adorned her feet, her eyes downcast and almost ashamed of her looks.

"Are you ready?" he asked casually, offering his arm out to her.

With a quick flick of her head upwards, Sen smile grandly to the beautiful man, a small blush evident on painted cheeks.

With a light heart and conflicting thoughts, with a smile on her face and butterflies in her stomach, she took his hand.

And together, after hours of preparation, they left towards the others awaiting.


	12. Chapter 12

"So..."

Nervously, Tamaki fumbled with the napkin in his finger, trying everything he could to try to break the tension between his group of friends. To have everyone at a table all at the same time, after having waited hours and hours for two of the members, was sort of like slow suicide.

"You're late!" Honey stated with a smile that seemed just a bit too hostile to be joking.

Sen smiled to the blond boy before clasping her hands together and bowing her head apologetically. "Yes, I apologize," she stated. "I had-"

Before she could continue, a hand on hers shocked her from her thoughts and she looked up, eyes meeting with the side of the Ootori's face beside her, eyes serious and cold, a smile on his lips as he spoke.

"I over-slept. My apologies, Honey-sempai," he stated.

That wasn't the case and she knew it. In fact, she thought they all knew it, due to their skeptical looks between one another and the confused air among them.

With her free hand, Sen took the Ootori's off of the other and smiled again.

"Though I appreciate the gesture, Ootori-san, I can take the fall for my own actions. I deserve to be scolded and criticize accordingly." She gently dropped his hand and bowed her head once more. "It is my fault for the extreme tardiness with which we arrive with. I had been unable to awaken from a phone call due to... To its destruction, and the fact I was under the influence of prescription drugs." She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. "Please forgive me for my reckless actions."

When she looked up – expecting to see angry and disappointed faces – she was shocked to see the concerned and shocked faces of those she dined with, save for Kyoya.

"Your phone's broken? How?" the twins exclaimed suddenly, looking at her and then at each other.

"You took pills...? Why...?" Haruhi asked in a small voice, her face turning from beside her to stare into the green eyes of the girl she had once thought to be strong, as per Mori's words.

"Yes, and yes. I..." Under the table, the hands of the Sakai heir clenched tightly into fists, long nails digging dangerously deep into the flesh of her palm, the thin fabric of her dress hardly softening the pain. "I dropped my phone in water," she lied with a smile. "As for the pills, I'm an insomniac. I can't sleep often, and I was desperate to do so yesterday, so I... Well, regardless, it appears I took a higher dose than I should have." She laughed it off as if it were nothing, pretending to believe her own lies, despite knowing their falsehood.

She's not clumsy; she would never do something so silly as dropping her phone. Sen knows she smashed it on purpose, tried to break away from her hectic and torturous life. She knew she was running away from the home she didn't want to return to, from the work she was afraid of doing.

Sen hardly even needed the pills! She could fall asleep on any whim, despite the situation or placement of her body. The pills were something she didn't need, no matter what that doctor pretended to say – he just wanted the money she brought along. The only reason she continued along with his lie was because of the temporary relief it granted from her disappointing life when she took them. When she took those pills, she didn't dream. There was no nightmares of the night, of the blood and the death and the hostage situation, no dreams of growing wings and reversing what could not be undone, no visions of a city under fire, of her gravestone cracked in half.

There were things she would never tell them...

"Really?" Mori questioned unconsciously, not knowing he had even said anything. When the others looked at him, he jumped slightly until he realized why.

"Y-Yes," she assured with a small stutter, as if unsure as to what to say. "I've been so for a year, since I left the hospital. It's only at night, though, when I'm alone..." She smiles again, shook her head slowly. "It's so silly, but I... I'm afraid, I guess." She laughed then, a soft and gentle smile that made up for the hours and hours of waiting they had tolerated. "Maybe I'm scared of 'The man under the bed with an axe'!"

Seeing her like that, laughing and joking about a topic he knew affected the girl... It made him remember all the old times. Mori smiled as the others laughed along with her mocking of herself, and as he did, he nearly felt bad for what they were doing to her.

It was Tamaki's idea to come here, his idea to make her confront a past he knew she was afraid of facing. It would only be a matter of time until the waiter arrived, until she met his eyes and the downward spiral began...

Mori only hoped – with all his heart, seeing her smiling so happily like she was – that the desired outcome would occur, and the twist of which he was afraid of happening would be avoided.

But Mori watched, helpless, as the waiter approached, knowing things weren't going to go as planned.

Humans are such changing creatures...

As he approached them, his jaw dropped, feet planted themselves into the ground, the tray he held falling to the ground. Two glasses of water shattered against the floor, people all around the restaurant turning to stare before returning to their lunch.

Sen flicked her head towards the commotion, green eyes meeting with wide hazel ones of the male dressed in a tuxedo.

Her own eyes widened and her jaw dropped, the others examining her face for every sign they could see of this bad decision.

"Sen?" the waiter muttered, his hands slightly raising up to reach for her, slowly, slowly, before they dropped to the ground and he shook his head. "I mean... Please excuse my rudeness, Sakai-sama. I will be right back to clean up this mess."

He turn and walked swiftly away from the table.

Mori watched as her head hung low for a moment, as her mind raced to catch up with the facts and identify what had just happened. He knew she was contemplating how this happened, how they had known... Then she looked up with a smile, ignoring the fact that they had a new waiter awaiting her order.

She told him of what she wanted – _'Pancakes, please, with green tea.'_ – and listened attentively as the others ordered with triumphant voices.

Only Mori could see that hurt behind those talented eyes.

When the waiter left, he could see the change in her attitude immediately.

"I..." she started, hands clenching into fists. This time, her nails cut into her palms, blood slowly dripping onto her fingers as she dangled them beside her, not allowing the red drops to fall onto her dress. "I know what you're doing. I'm not stupid or deaf – I know and hear of the things the Host Club does for the 'troubled, unhappy girls' in Ouran. I know that you all knew of the relation I have with that waiter, and it's not unreasonable to assume that you specifically asked for him and aligned for this to happen accordingly."

Her eyes, now ice-cold, watched as Tamaki flinched visibly under her gaze. She knew?

"I understand how my situation seems-" She paused, as if thinking of her words before saying them, leveling them out and understanding how it would sound off her tongue. "Seeing as I've been adopted into a family, with so much pressure on me and such... I understand how you may think that I need help, or that I am not happy, but I would like to ask you to stop with these foolish antics." She stood, releasing her clenched hands and letting the blood to wind itself around her erect fingers. "I have secluded myself away from the past because I am happier without it. I do not need to know of my origins or the fact that I was raised with nothing. I do not want to admit to the things I had once said or done, and most definitely do not want to meet with those who once knew me. So please, allow me to escape the pain that is my past. It belongs forgotten." She paused, closed her eyes after examining the stiff-looking Tamaki, and sighed. "Please excuse me."

Kyoya sighed, as well, as he watched her back receded into the bathroom vicinity.

"It failed...?" Tamaki mumbled softly, shaking his head, a growing hysteria overcoming his reason. "It... failed."

Haruhi stood from her seat, ignoring the pleas of the others to 'leave her be'.

Those words had ran into her mind, the first time another female had ever said them to her, not jealous or intimidated, all the while knowing of her situation.

_I hope we can be friends, Fujioka-chan._

Beneath the grasp of her hands, the bathroom door opened to girl.


	13. Chapter 13

Cold water against a lifeless face.

Dead.

Yes, I am dead. I have lost and I have failed, I am a disappointment and a wreck.

The game is over, the past has returned and I know I'm so weak now; I can't defeat this boss again. I can't do it over, can't repeat, no more lives to waste in the attempt.

My best partner, Mori – the one who kept me alive, who took the death-blows, who healed me when my health was low – is gone. He is removed from my party, is taken from me by a monster who killed my mother, has been removed from my memories. Mori will not return, never return, can't return.

My weapon was destroyed. The cellphone I used to occupy my time with is destroyed. There's no way to have it now, to kill the time now, to defeat the evils.

The defense is shattered. A wall I built to protect myself fell, and now they're all falling, falling, crumbling and breaking against the floor of the truth like glass against concrete. I am exposed.

I am dead.

Sen, a voice calls. I turn, look, stare in shock as I see her, standing, beautiful.

Oh, how beautiful...

Yes, I ask, smile. What a smile; I've grown so well at lying I nearly fool myself. Nearly, but I know there is no smile, there is no joy, no happiness, no nothing.

Those who are dead feel nothing.

So why do I feel like screaming?

Are you okay, she questions, moves closer, stretches her hand. Touches me. Yes, her hand touches my arm, her heat emitting and wrapping around cold, dead flesh. Alive.

Am I alive?

No, no. I am dead. Death is not irreversible; there is no more Mori to take these shots.

Of course, I say. Water drips, drops, falls into the sink, the mirror reflects and laughs at me, sees through this lie of mine, crushes its truth into my being and pounds, pounds, pounds on my heart until it feels like its bursting.

Death hurts.

I don't realize that my legs have given out, that tears mesh with the drip dropping water, that I'm on the floor and Haruhi is wrapping her arms around me, cooing, warming.

I don't notice the pain, the tears, the blood from my hands that falls onto her dress.

She pretends not to, either.

I'm sorry, she says.

'Don't be', I want to say, but I can't. I want her to be sorry, to cry for me, to be upset at their actions and curse their stupid decision to do this. I want them to realize they made me fail, made me lose, made me die and see that game over screen.

It's not your fault, I say instead, through the tears.

She moves from her squat and onto her knees, getting closer, holding me tighter until I wrap my arms back and bury my face.

Why is it so hard to face, she asks.

Fear.

I want to say, I want to tell her, I want to confront all my anxiety, lay it down, expose myself for a failure, for a weakling, for a loser. I want to, but I can't. So I shake my head, push her away, wipe my tears and stand up. Face into that mirror with its accusations, with its taunting image of a dead girl with green eyes rimmed in red, of perfect hair and a pretty face, a face as cold and pale as a corpse.

If you've spent your life forgetting, I start to say. Reddened eyes close themselves from the world, my world. Blackness devours the sight I see, showing pictures of a time I remember, of a time I forgot, of a time I know can never return. They flash; smiles, laughs, a group of hands intertwined with fingers, receding backs of those I love. His face, their face, my face and our faces, pressed together against the window, mocking the maids and running, running until our lungs burst and we fell to the grass.

It's hard to finish my sentence I realize then. It's so true it hurts, so true it makes me question everything I knew before this. How could I have made a truth so fake, so false, so much of a lie that it consumed and changed the rest of me so completely?

I stop speaking, press those lips of mine into fine lines, squeeze my eyes and await for the words to fall like they always do.

They don't.

A hand on my shoulder, that familiar warmth, that feel of being alive, of being knowledgeable, of feeling...

Squeezed lids open to that mocking mirror, the reflection showing this dead girl beside one of beautiful, with short brown hair and wide, kind eyes, with peach skin and the clearest complexion, wearing a beautiful dress lightly damaged with blood. My blood.

We'll all be waiting for you at the table, she says before smiling. Take your time.

I don't follow her with my eyes as she leaves, too ashamed to grace myself with a glance of elegance, of her elegance, her flawlessness.

Instead, I cup my head in my hands, think, contemplate, wonder and destroy myself.

Slowly, I build up my confidence, create a plan, get my bricks together and recreate those walls they have so easily knocked over.

I fix my makeup, make myself presentable, clear the tears and stand with pride, with dignity, with the courage I know I have because _I am a Sakai. _

And finally I stride out of the bathroom.


	14. Chapter 14

No one spoke a word when Sen returned, a smile on her face as if nothing had happened, her personality kind and open, free and innocent. Nervously, Haruhi glanced over to the once-crying girl she sat beside, afraid of what may happen now, after she saw someone so well-known and powerful in such a vulnerable state, in such an open place.

Of course, none of the others knew what had transpired in the secrecy of the bathroom.

"Um...!" Tamaki stuttered out, accidentally slamming his drink down just that little bit too hard, the whole table shaking underneath. Sen immediately looked up from her green tea, meeting the violet eyes of the blond king of their group. "I am deeply sorry for what I have put you through with my foolishness! I don't expect you to forgive me, but-"

She smiled, eyes soft and accepting, her beaten hand landing on the soft ivory of his.

"You're already forgiven," she assured, removing her hand and returning her grip to her hot cup. "I should be apologizing, actually. I completely overreacted earlier. I understand you were only trying to do what you knew was right, and I thank you for that. It was out of line for me to have tarnished the Sakai name by reacting in such a childish manner."

Honey giggles, stabs his fork into his already-ordered cake and takes a large bite from his over-filled fork.

"You totally did overreact, Sen-chan," he agrees, nodding dramatically for effect of his words. "That waiter wasn't pretty at all! He seemed very rude, too, calling you out by your first name like you were still friends!" He grins, almost tauntingly, and takes another bite of his cakes as he stares into the unreadable eyes of the girl. "He must be very poor and stupid, too, given that he works as a waiter! I bet he doesn't even-"

"Please silence yourself," Sen hissed in a whisper, eyes narrowed and dangerous as she stared back into the honey eyes of the one with the similar name.

He smiled again, leaned over the table slightly. "I don't like you, Sen-chan."

"Surprising, isn't it." Her voice was dry and sarcastic, as if she was expecting him to say that.

"I think you have some secrets hiding that you don't want to tell us! It makes me so mad!" Despite the power of his words, the senior boy's words were light and happy, a jump in his voice and that same taunting smile on his voice.

Confused by the sudden tension, the others stared between, only Kyoya realizing the danger of this situation, trying halfheartedly to help before things spiraled and he was left to clean up the mess certain to be created in the after math.

"Honey-sempai-"

"Honestly, I've been dying to say the same to you, Haninozuka," Sen spat back before her future husband was allowed time to finish.

"You're a snake, Sen-chan, and I don't like you around my friends!"

She took one last, long swig of her tea before she gently placed it down and stood from her seat.

"In my years, I have been called worse names by toddlers. Do try to be more effective if insulting me is what you aim for, Haninozuka." She mover slightly away from the table, pushed her chair into the table and leaned over it slightly, glaring into the golden eyes of Honey, examining every part of his being like it was the thing she hated the most. "For the time being, though, and until you smarten up and decide to be an adult, I shall take my leave. Should you find yourself to be more of a man and less of a child, do not hesitate to find me near the beach."

Being the gentleman he was taught to be, Kyoya stood from his seat, prepared to accompany her to her room. But she muttered a harsh, "Stay here," which caused him to pause before he began walking.

"It is only proper-" he tried to explain elegantly, only to be met with her head flung over her shoulder, frightening eyes staring into his with the force of trains.

"Do not think I care what is proper and what is not. You will stay, and if you dare go against this, so help me-" she began, only to catch herself and take a deep, calming breath, throwing her hands into her sides and walking out as quickly as she could.

It took all she had to ignore the sly comment made by the Haninozuka boy right before she was out of hearing range:

"And so she shows her true colours."

Once she was gone, they all stared at the blond boy, enraged, curious, confused and amazed. What had just happened...?

He only pointed to their previous waiter frantically talking to his boss, throwing his arms frantically until he ripped off his jacket and threw it to the ground, rushing out of the restaurant without an explanation to his employer.

"I fixed things for you, Tama-chan!" Honey singsonged, proud of himself, of the disaster he caused.

It took only moments after for Haruhi to chase out after, followed soon after by the king of the club.

The twins were the last to look between one another and rush out after the others.

Glances were passed between Kyoya and Mori, though neither went to act on their passing curiosity, the dulling idea of running after them; they didn't want to leave Honey alone.

"Thank you," Mori whispered in the silence between them, his eyes downcasted to his drink.

For the first time since she returned, Honey gave a softer, sweet smile, his hand landing on his cousins.

Mori didn't even care to disagree when the younger blond clutched his hand tightly.


	15. Chapter 15

From behind a bush a little away from the shore, they watched her on the shore, her red dress blowing, the black heels from earlier lazily discarded on the large rocks slightly to her left. It was strange, Haruhi thought, to see this composed girl so broken like she was in one day. Not only had she cried in the bathroom, but she yelled at Honey, had been rude to Kyoya, had stormed out of a restaurant and came to a beach to pout like a child – or, in her case, to skip rocks over the ocean waters.

Tamaki was more than interested, though, his eyes wide as he examined the surroundings, the girl, contemplating the situation and ways he could make this play into helping the troubled Sakai heir become a better, happier person then she was, then she has ever been.

The twins were the first to see him, the stranger in the background, overshadowed by the beautiful woman doing a boyish thing. He stood at the far back of the shoreline, pacing between two bushes, his hands in his pockets, head upwards and eyes closed, face troubled, as if he were going over scenarios in his mind. It took only a look for them all to recognize the man as the first waiter, without the black tuxedo jacket on, only his matching vest over white shirt marking him as a classy man. And even that was disheveled, his shirt partially tucked in, one side hanging out while the other passed as some sad excuse of looking presentably hidden.

The four Hosts watched as he slowly stepped onto the sand, as he grew closer to Sen, as his facial expression went from troubled to soft to kind, then back to troubled and – perhaps, maybe – even angered.

"I used to know this girl, you know," he stated proudly, watching as his old-friend stopped in the middle of throwing a rock, her arm in the air, body tilted for the throw. And though she didn't turn to acknowledge him, the boy knew she was listening, that she cared what he said, like she used to. "She was a real wire, her. She did what she wanted to whenever she pleased, and no one could tell her different." He laughed suddenly, one hand getting out of his pocket to softly cover his mouth. When the light shined on him just so, Haruhi thought he was pretty. Perhaps not in a Japanese-business-man way, but maybe in an American bad-boy way, with scruffy hair and his outfit so disheveled. He was beautiful, for some. "I remember this time when a group of us were hanging outside our orphanage, at the usual spot, and she wanted to so badly have a tire swing. We all complained, 'cause it wasn't really the greatest idea, since the tree didn't seem big enough to hold a person. But she ignored us and made damn sure to get a tire and make a tire swing. She refused to listen when we said it wouldn't work, and when she went on it, the tree broke and she wound up breaking her arm." He laughs again, this time louder and harder, his head flying back as he imagined the past. "She looked so stupid, with her cast! We had to replant the tree and everything, but she had no regrets and swore we'd do it again when the new tree grew."

She ignored him, continuing to skip her stones, bending down occasionally to refill her stockpile in her left hand.

"I always imagined her coming back after she left, to check the tree, to see if it was grown tall enough to make a tire swing."

With no answer, the boy sighed, shoved his hand back into his pocket and sauntered closer, standing behind her and watching as her rocks skipped twice, three times, four, then sunk.

"She never came back. Three years passed and we received nothing. No letters, no calls, no visits. Nothing. It was like we disappeared off the face of the Earth to her. The people who worked in the orphanage would talk about her all the time, about how famous she was becoming, how good she was at her business, how her father was constantly supplying the place with money and supplies and everything they needed for giving him her." He scoffed, sat down on the large rock her shoes resided on, watched as she continued to throw the rocks, one by one, waiting until they vanished before she threw another.

Haruhi stared, knowing this was more of a confrontation then a conversation. In the pit of her stomach, she felt sick, wanted to jump up and stop this, feeling something for the woman she had only just met a few days ago. Perhaps it was a small feeling, but she felt like – maybe, in another time, if they had met sooner – they could have been the best of friends. There was something similar between them, something under the surface that made Haruhi feel the need to stay by Sen, made her feel like it was her job to protect the girl who seemed too sweet to do what the boy was describing.

But she didn't. She didn't stand up, didn't listen to her mind screaming, didn't do anything but watch. She knew it would be better to allow them to figure this out themselves. Of course, Haruhi was given the background story from Honey and Tamaki, about the plan and the reasons and everything. They planned to make Sen reconnect with all her closest friends from the orphanage, make her return to the way Mori said she used to be like. The anger she had shown towards Honey – perhaps this was the first step to changing the girl.

Given that no one else dared to mutter a word in the silence that followed, she assumed they all felt the same.

"I thought she cared, once, when we were told someone of great importance was to be coming in to visit. I thought it was her. We all did! Everyone got to getting ready to seeing her again, to fixing up her legacies, her wall of paint, her growing tree, the garden she started, the door that never closed just-right because she ran into it with a wheelbarrow. We did everything, and when she didn't show, I think that's when we gave up hope.

"We still listened to the workers speak of her success, you know, how she was making millions on her latest deal, how she was in Japan, doing business and getting the Sakai name higher than ever. We read the papers, clipped them out, taped them to the wall opposite to hers and made a sort of legacy-wall, where we could put the things of her so we could forget but still remember."

He shakes his head, his hands out of his pockets, on his knees, hands shaking. It was obvious to those watching that he had waited a long time to say this, to get it off his chest.

"One by one, her friends vanished from the orphanage. They forgot the girl, because they were sick and fucking tired of having their hopes dashed and destroyed and knowing that they were so easy to be forgotten. They moved on, went to university, got jobs and became better than what they started as, still keeping in contact, still wondering if maybe, if they got famous, they'd meet that girl again, the one they loved to bits because she was their first friend, the one who helped them when they went to the orphanage, all raw and dead from the death of their parents.

"And now here she is, and she can't even look me in the goddamn eyes, even after I chase after her when she freaks out on someone _very fucking important, _just in case you didn't notice that kid was a Haninozuka, Sen. He can ruin your life, you idiot. You worked so bloody hard, you know, so it would be a waste to have it all gone because you lipped off a Haninozuka because he talked smack about a guy you long ago forgot about."

His last words were laced thickly with acid, enough to kill a man and tear them down, the words cutting deep like knives, each and every one striking farther and deeper, set to destroy every organ in her body until she was gasping for air and crying, begging to die before having to hear him say one more terrible thing.

But she did nothing like that. She stood where she was, dropped her rocks and scoffed, lowering her head and facing the other way, to the right, away from him.

"Don't you ever talk like that again, Ryan," she threatened harshly, her voice quiet and deadly, dead and cold. "Do you think that there was one day that I didn't want to go back? Do you think that I sat there, high up in my mansion, gloating in my success? Do you think I didn't throw a fit when I was told that I would never, _ever _be allowed to return to my roots because that would be a shame to the Sakai name, to the family, to the legacy I had built? Do you know how much it hurts to be threatened with losing a family I never had because I want to see the family I _do _have? _ Do you understand that decision?_" Her voice was rising in hysteria, straining itself as she nearly screamed, her hands clenching and releasing, eyes staring at the sand beneath her bare feet. "For the first six months I lived with my father, I was the worst kid. I got off the plane and did everything I could to ruin his reputation. I tried to make him regret me, tried to make him send me back and demand a refund. I entered his mansion for the first time and threw the biggest fit ever. I was screaming and demanding to be sent back, already missing that place. I broke every vase in his house, kicked in doors, ruined paintings and threw a chair into his piano. I was terrible, Ryan, and he just _sat there and let me do it. _He took a fucking seat on the couch and _watched _as I destroyed hundreds of thousands of dollars in rare and expensive merchandise. And when I was done, when I was breathing heavy and crying and on the ground because I was too upset to do anything, he offered his hand and said, 'I'm your only family now.' He replaced the things, and every day, before I went to school, I'd break them again. I'd go to school and get in fights. I'd punch a girl because I felt like it. I'd yell at the teacher, I'd break a window, I'd be bad and set fires. I tried to get myself into jail, tried everything to be deemed a terrible kid, tried to get him to send me back because I was more of a ruin than he needed."

She turns around, faces the boy on the rock with the shocked face, red with his anger, white with his fear.

"For _six months,_ that went on. And then I saw him, when I went to harass him about going back, and he was crying at his desk, bawling his eyes out like a child, shaking his head like everything in his life was wrong. His family, Ryan. He lost his family in a car crash. His son was dead too young, his wife beautiful and pregnant, and they were both dead. He went to our orphanage because he needed someone brilliant, he wanted to fill the void. He was so sad, and crying and... _God, _Ryan, I don't know. I just saw you, and Dave, and Richard and every other crying kid who lost their family, and I couldn't leave anymore. I felt _sorry, _I felt _bad, _I felt like I made him lose his family and I couldn't leave. I couldn't do anything after that! I just sat in his office, next to his leg, waiting until he was better to tell him I was sorry, to say I'd do what he wanted, that he was my father and I was okay, that I didn't need anything else but him. A family, that's all I wanted, a family."

"_We _were your family!" the waiter – Ryan – screamed out, his hands flying out to his side in outrage.

"_You _were not family. You guys _had _family before. I was a replacement, something to take the sting off while you got over your dead parents. _I _never had anyone to pat my head or tell me I did good on tests, no one who ever sat there and made me food in the morning, no one who came and watched me at recitals or took me on vacations. For _fourteen years, _I was in that orphanage. The workers were terrible, the people worse. I was alone in there, and then that man shows up and he acts like a parent to me, and I'm finally not alone or feeling so empty and I _like _it, but I still miss you all. I still beg to go back, but he just smiles and asks me not to, says I won't go back to him then, says he can't lose me like he lost his son. And when I turn fifteen, I demand to go back, because I can't take not seeing my friends. But he says that, if I go back, he won't take me anymore. So I won't have a family. I won't have a father."

"You could have stayed with us!"

"You're all older than me!" she screams, no longer scared of hiding her fear, her anguish, her deepest, darkest feelings on this matter because she just can't care anymore, about what anyone says. Her hand goes into the air, and she's yelling, her face distorted into a beautiful kind of ugly, a softer side of rage. "I was fifteen, Ryan! You were seventeen! _You guys _could leave in a year! I would be stuck there, alone, for another three goddamn years before I was allowed to even _start _being successful."

Ryan stares, ashamed that he missed this fact, that he hadn't thought of it that way, that she would be alone for so long when they turned of legal age.

"We would have visited..."

"I wouldn't have wanted that. I wouldn't want to see you for a day when it would kill me even more when you left, when I couldn't see you for another four months. I wouldn't be able to do that."

Silence fell between them, Ryan's pretty-punk face looking down, embarrassed, and Sen just shaking her head slowly, unsure of what to do. And then she turned, bent down and picked up the rocks, and returned to skipping them over the water, despite the storm inside her being.

Tamaki's eyes filled with tears, and Haruhi was unaware of her hands clenched onto her knees, like she was reading a really good book and was getting emotional over the main character's story, like she usually did.

"You missed a lot..." Ryan whispers so softly that the watching foursome struggles to hear. "Damian graduated university with the highest of honours, and now he's the leading surgeon in an Ootori hospital. Dave owns a supermarket chain, and he's pretty well-off. Richard's an artist, and he's married to this model. Kyle..."

There's a pause between the both of them, unsure of how to approach that. For a minute, Sen stops everything. Stops moving, stops thinking, stops feeling. For a while, she stops breathing, too.

"Kyle's engaged," Ryan finished.

And then life resumed, and she's throwing her rocks and watching them sink, slowly, slowly.

"That's good," she responds back. "I'm happy for him."

"He waited for you the longest, Sen," he continues softly, fingers playing with themselves between his outstretched legs. "He was the one who kept saying you'd come back, who didn't believe you'd just abandon us like that. He counted the days until he turned eighteen, because he said he'd go and see you first, before he did anything." Ryan squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head. "Three days after his birthday, we get a call at the orphanage, and he's completely wasted and crying and he's so upset. He says the bodyguards of yours wouldn't let him see you, said he went to your house and was personally escorted out of the property and area, said that no matter how many times he tried to contact you, he was denied it. So he gave up, did a whore, moved on. Now he's set to get married, and he doesn't think of you."

"I'm..." Sen inhales sharply. "I'm truly glad he moved on. I am. He deserves a beautiful wife with a normal life and everything else. He deserves someone who loves him."

"So do you, Sen, you do too." Ryan stands, towering over the short girl. "Everyone does."

"I don't. I'm a businesswoman, I don't do pleasurable things. I don't go on vacations to get away, I go on vacations because I'm supposed to, because the press doesn't want to see me being a busy-body all the time, but I'm still working, every day. I don't play games anymore, because that's considered immature. I can't get married for love, I get married to unite two companies and make the Sakai name shine brightly next to another huge name." She shakes her head, throws a rock into the water with as much force as she can manage, watches as it slams into the water and send droplets into the air, singing right after. "I can't even be here without work! I'm so fucking sick of this! I snapped last night, Ryan, for the fifth damn time in a month. I smashed my phone against a wall and took pills so I didn't have to deal with the mixture of emotions that followed. I tried to drown it out pill by pill, and when I passed out, I didn't even have the pleasure of dreaming."

And she's crying then, tears running down her face as she thinks of how stupid she must look, how pathetic she is, how terrible she feels for just exploding and pouring her whole soul out to this boy she hasn't seen in three years. But then again, he was always the one she trusted most. Ryan was the first one she recruited into her group, the first one who made her feel like she wasn't so alone in the orphanage of hundreds of kids.

His arms are around her before she can push him away, and he's holding her too close, too tight, his face on the top of her head, smelling the sweet scent of strawberries and melons, of goodness and rainbows and tears.

"What have I become...?" she mumbles from his chest, and he hugs her tighter, his own eyes shedding the water they were containing for three years. Three years of being alone, without the girl who held their world in her hands, who built them up when they were broken.

"It's..." Ryan chokes, "It's gonna be okay."

And for the first time in three years, Sen truly does believe it may.

**Author's Note.**

**Well, hi guys, and sorry for the VERY LATE updates! I don't even have any excuses; I just got lazy and ran out of ideas. So I didn't update. But now school is done and things will be good, so here's some chapters and such.**

** If you haven't noticed, the last two chapters have been pretty... uh, eventful? It's pretty sudden, right? But I figured it had to happen, since this has stretched on for 14 chapters without much going on. I have to end this soon...! I guess this is chapters marks the beginning of the end...**

** But, yeah, so. There's a bit of the background, I suppose. I have nothing much else to say...**

** Uhm, even though I don't deserve it (since I didn't update in, like, four months!) I'd love it if you reviewed this telling me what you think so far! And I'll have the poll up until next the next update (so probably a few days, since I'm going on holidays!) but then I'll have to close it so I can get the ending all good and such. I hope to hear from you all! Have a good day or night or afternoon and such! Thanks!**


	16. Chapter 16

Perhaps there was more to Honey than he liked to show.

Perhaps there was a side of him, the side with secrets and anger and hatred, that was kept separate from his aloof, boyish self. Yes, there was that part of him, and in that terrible part he hid was her, that part of her that had always resided inside himself.

He kept it safe from everyone. Not even Mori, his most dearest companion, knew of that little gem inside his hatred, though his cousin knew all too well of the darkened side of him.

_"Hey, you alright?" _

Cringing, Honey drinks his chocolate milk, trying to turn off his mind. No, he doesn't want to think of that time now, not after he had said such terrible things to her.

_"Oh, you're Mitsukuni, huh? I've heard about you."_

The hand on his tightened, and nervously, the golden eyes of the Haninozuka scanned over to see his relative, a mask of nothing covering everything that simple hold on his hand showed. Lonliness, fear, happiness, self-hatred, desire... Sadness. Everything that couldn't be shown on his face was there, present in that touch, and it made Honey even more disgusted at himself.

_"My name's Sen. Sorry for ramming into you like that!"_

Before he knew it, Honey was crying. Tears were falling and he was shaking and both the boys sitting with him knew nothing of why or how or what to do to stop it.

_"Oh, you've got Usa-chan!" _

In his mind, Honey replayed their meeting bitterly. How could he ever hold such hatred towards that girl, the one who made him blush that first time, who made him keep and fix his ragged bunny, the one he kept hidden in his bag at all times.

She had ran into him, and it had fell out. She said nothing about how a man of his age held onto such a childish thing, nor did she even mention anything about his demeanor, or the way he looked or acted so young or anything. She just smiled, holding that plushie in her hands in admiration.

_"I have the white version of Usa-chan at my house. It's my favourite."_

And then the bell rang, and he remembers her returning his doll and looking quickly at the clocktower outside the window. With a quick goodbye, she ran off, and the next time he saw her, she was with Mori, laughing, both of them smiling.

Maybe it was then that Honey felt betrayed, like his precious little moment with the girl was ruined, because she chose Mori over him. Maybe it was then that he began to detest the girl, that she moved from the front of his mind to the darker side of his self, to being hidden in the most blackened part, only a little light around her memory to remind him of what she once was.

It was strange, the cousins having the same taste in girls. Or maybe it was just Sen, she could do that to people. He remembers watching as she went out with guy after prestigious guy, using them to further her own business, allowing herself to be discarded easily after she got what she wanted. Yes, it was obvious she had a charm about her; how else could she keep men falling for the same tricks?

Putting one and one together, he decided she had just been kind to him to get her foot in the door, had treated him like an equal, like a man, because she figured the Haninozuka name was a good friend to have. That's when he felt used, like he was not a boy at all buy a toy, like Usa-chan.

But even then, he was not Usa-chan. Usa-chan was her favourite; Honey was not that.

Mori was.

Sometimes, Honey wondered if he was even Mori's favourite anymore, or if she had taken that, too.

Sen was always outdoing him. Every time he looked, he found Sen and Mori together, a smile like never before seen on his stoic cousin's face. He could hear the rumours spreading that they were dating, that only Sen made the Morinozuka boy smile just so. Inside him, it burned. All the time, whenever he heard them, a part of him snapped. But he wouldn't show it in the open, not where everyone was. So he secluded his idea of Sen into that black pit, pushed her aside, never thought of her again...

After that, he ignored her, did everything he could to change his cousin's mind about her. Maybe to get her out of their lives, maybe to be everything to Mori again.

Or maybe a little for himself, so he could have that precious memory back, of being her favourite. Her Usa-chan.

And then the accident happened. He worried without words when she didn't show up to school, began going crazy when she wasn't there the second day. By the third, he was panicking, and just before the fourth day is when it happened.

He and Mori were the ones to react. They rushed the warehouse and destroyed anyone inside. It killed the Haninozuka slowly, knowing that he wasn't allowed to kill, knowing that the frustration and anger he held inside was never allowed out of his small frame.

But it was alright, he just stashed it aside, in Sen's little corner of his dark part.

It was with a sick sort of happiness that Honey watched as his cousin released the girl from he bindings, as she slapped him and pushed him to his rear, running away from the man she was never seen without.

But Honey hadn't reacted quickly enough. Mori was the first to run after her, the first to find her, the first to return with her.

Mori would always be her favourite.

Mori saved her.

Clenching his hand tighter onto his cousin's, Honey tried to hold back his tears. Why did saying something so terrible to the girl make him feel so sad? This wasn't the first time he had been mean to her, no. There had been many times before, times where he would tell her he was everything he hated, everything he wanted to die in the world.

What bothered him the most was her reaction. It wasn't how she usually lashed out, wasn't anything similar to the halfhearted smile she would normally give with a mocking jab. It was violent and viscous and contained so much more than he was used to. In a way, he saw the old Sen, and with her words fresh in his mind, Honey knew, before everyone else.

Sen knew. She remembered.

But he would ever tell how he knew. He wouldn't ever admit to the things he had done when he was once infatuated with the girl. No, no one would ever know that he had traveled to her orphanage, had seen that waiter as a young teenager, had viewed her wall of spattered paint or all the paper clippings. He wouldn't ever tell about how he knew a side of Sen that she never showed, the possessive, dangerous, mouthy Sen that she was in the orphanage.

Only he knew that.

So only he would know her terrible secret.


	17. Chapter 17

The warmth is comforting.

It is too hot, too harsh. The touch on my arm burns, something I'm unused to, so detached of. He escorts me back with kind eyes and similar words, telling me happy tales of people I long forgot, days I wished not to remember.

I don't feel hollow.

I am not cold.

I am not nothing.

Something has shifted. My walls still stand, my defenses are high. They are unbreakable; a fortress that houses and protects.

But he stands inside. Beside me, warming me.

I am not empty.

Despair.

Yes, that was what I had felt before.

He wiped it away, entered through a secret door and into my lair, saved me from the ropes of torture and loathing, made everything seem right for a moment or two.

It won't last, I know.

He will leave.

I will leave.

My father will yell.

He will react harshly.

I was banished, forbidden. I was not to see them, ever.

I did not listen.

Or, he did not listen.

Weren't they warned? Weren't they told?

He looks at me with eyes wet with tears already shed, a love in them I haven't seen in years.

How long?

Too long.

I don't want to be strangers again, he says.

But we must, I want to say. I want to break his delirius happiness, show him the truth of what will happen. I want to shake him to his core so he understands, so I can be nothing again, so I don't have to feel whole again.

Happy again.

Okay again.

I say nothing, just smile. Such a fake smile. But is it?

Is it real, finally?

I don't know.

I've become too good with the fake ones.

Let's have a party, and invite the gang, he says so happily.

No, I want to scream. I want to turn and hit him in those smiling lips. I want to pound reality into him, show him. Teach him.

We are not friends.

We cannot be friends.

We are different.

He is low.

I am a Sakai.

It is forbidden.

I cannot be whole.

I cannot be okay.

I must be nothing.

Just a good girl.

Why must he change it?

_Why must he interfere?_

Don't you think it'd be fun, Sen, he asks, says my name like he used to.

Stop it, I want to say, Don't say my name like that. Don't talk like we're okay. Don't act like I'm fine.

I'm broken.

Realize this.

Notice.

I am nothing.

Stop.

I just smile, let him think. I cannot ruin him, no, not again. I cannot break him.

Not a second time.

He stops, turns to me, grabs my hands.

His heat burns. I want to pull away, yell at him. He's hurting me, scorching skin, turning it black.

Let me treat you to dinner, he begs.

No, I want to say. Stop being nice. I only hurt you, I ruin you. Nothing will come of this. I am nothing. We are nothing.

You can be nothing.

Stay too long and you will be.

Okay, I say instead. It is without consent, my body acting against itself.

Why is there a revolt? What is rebelling?

There is warmth.

Behind the walls. Behind the castle.

Behind the solitude, past the pain.

He is there.

Warming me, comforting me.

Forcing plans, changing me.

Get out, I want to scream. Leave me alone.

I was fine before you.

I was fine.

I was okay.

I know it's a lie.

All I have.

Lies.

Years were spent making me nothing.

Father, savior, that demon of a man.

He will be enraged when I return as something.

He will lash out.

Will he disown me?

Losing him is frightening.

Returning to nothing – more so.

Ryan drops one hand, keeps his fiery grip on the other. Pulls me, leads me.

Where, I want to ask.

I don't.

I trust him.

More than anyone.

More than myself.


	18. Chapter 18

They hadn't moved from behind the bush, even long after Sen and her companion – Ryan – had left. Where were they going, what were they doing? None of them knew, yet it seemed impossible to find the strength to follow.

"What now?" one of the twins – Hikaru, Haruhi pinpoints through the darkness – asks aloud, voice barely a whisper in the tense atmosphere between the four.

There was a moment of silence that followed, a moment of uneasiness as none knew the answer. Should they return to Kyoya, Honey, and Mori? Do they follow Sen and take her back to the hotel? Or do they allow the two friends to reconnect after not seeing one another for so long?

"We should get back to the others," Haruhi states in place of Tamaki. She knows that king too well; he's too preoccupied with forming an elaborate plan in his head to answer a question like that.

So they go. Slowly, with the weight of realization of what they forced to the surface still fresh in their minds, they walk with dragging feet. They hadn't meant to create such bad memories for the girl, they wanted it to be a happy thing, have Sen reconnect with the friend she had been torn away from when she was adopted.

They never would have imagined there was a back story, a forbidding they had forcefully broken. Her father had his reason and his rules, Sen had her own for obeying them.

They didn't mean to create such a wave of events.

Nervously, Haruhi looks to her blond friend, at his concentrating expression, the way his eyes are clouded over and his lips pressed thinly together as he thinks of another plan to offset their ruined one.

Should they even get involved anymore than they had...?

"Stop it," Haruhi states plainly then, grabbing the Suoh's hand and lowering it from its contemplating position upon his jaw. "It's not our place to interfere."

"W-What?" he gasps, exasperated. Helping women smile was all he knew how to do. Sen was to be married to Kyoya, wasn't she someone they wanted to smile more than anyone else? Wasn't Kyoya their _friend, _didn't they want the best for him, the happiest woman in the world? "What do you mean, Haruhi? You can't mean to give up!"

"I do," she states, walking ahead of the others. She's all too aware of their eyes on her, on that dress she wears, with the small drops of blood that adorn it – a souvenir of the breakdown by the strongest girl she currently knew. "We already messed things up, we'll probably just end up doing it again. She doesn't deserve to go through anymore pain. I think she's gone through enough, don't you?"

And as nothing more is said, as she hears the silence behind her and the shuffling of feet, she assumes he agrees.

…

It had been a while since they left the restaurant and headed back to the hotel. Originally, they had planned to return to their separate rooms, but the plan was derailed as Tamaki began explaining what had been revealed on the beach.

As he spoke, he occasionally glanced around at the faces of those finding out the information, going back and forth from Kyoya's to Honey's to Mori's faces.

None seemed even remotely shocked or upset with the information, faces a mask of emotionless knowledge.

Inside the room Kyoya was to share with his betrothed, they waited for her return. Where did she go, was she safe? Perhaps they hadn't spent much time with her, but there was a form of frienship formed by their actions, by her responses, the kindness she showed over the time they had been together. Maybe it was a sense of duty that lead them to become worried, maybe they didn't want to face the wrath of the Sakai patriotch should his daughter be harmed.

Hours past, Haruhi reluctantly fell asleep on the bed. Honey soon followed, with Hikaru finally unable to push the sleep out as the clock hit one.

The others stayed awake, keeping themselves occupied with hushed chatter between them, speaking of the girl they awaited on, of things that didn't matter, things that kept their mind off the desire to sleep.

And as the time ticked on, they thought it hopeless. Maybe she found somewhere else to sleep, maybe she was still with Ryan. They thought of many scenarios to keep the worry at bay, to keep their frantic minds from forcing a search party.

Eventually there was a sound, the desperate sound of the door trying to open, followed by a sigh and a manly, "Dammit.".

Kyoya had been the one to open it, welcoming that ever-familiar waiter with his pretty features, that beautiful girl nestled in his arms, head in the crook of his neck like it was where it always belonged.

"She's sleeping, so be quiet, alright?" Ryan states without much care as to who they were. Yes, they were people of power. They could ruin his life with one phone call, he knew this. But Sen? Sen meant more to him than his reputation. Even if it was just over her sleep, he wouldn't have them disturb her anymore than they already had. Those awake awoke the others, creating space on the bed for the sleeping girl in the red dress. "You know," he continued as he placed her on the bed, careful with her body like it was the frailest piece of glass ever discovered. "You really screwed things up, in a way. She was... God, she was screwed up. Did you guys do that?"

As if he was invited to join them in the room, in their conversation, he collapsed by her bed, one hand reaching up and laying itself on hers, like they were lovers. In another life, maybe they could have been, Kyoya would never know. They certainly looked more the part then he and she had.

"What?" Tamaki questions, unsure of what was meant. How had she been screwed up? Did he mean the plan, because yes, that was their fault, but... "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean she was... I don't know. You guys don't know Sen like me. Um... She was... Er, closed? Yeah, I guess that's it." He sighs as he closes his eyes, grips her hand ever so gently, conscious of the fact that she's asleep, yet desiring to be closer to her than he was in that moment. He wanted to be right beside her, hold her in his arms again... It had been too long. "Had a hell of a time getting her to talk. Kept to herself, said what I wanted to hear. That ain't Sen, that ain't what I know."

It made Mori smile, hearing that. Finally, someone knew all that he did...

"Did she talk?" Honey sleepily asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Normally, he hated being awaken. But somehow this was okay, it was needed. He didn't mind it, as long as there was a just cause.

For a second, there was an uncomfortable weight in the room. The glare the boy – Ryan – had given seemed capable to kill.

"If she didn't tell me about _you, _kid, I would hate your guts right now. I'd tell you to go to hell for asking that question." He sighed, shaking his head. "But yeah, she did. Got through to her, had a real deep talk. Told me a lot, 'bout life. You know she dated people? I sure as hell didn't. That ain't the Sen I knew, nah. The Sen I knew liked one guy, and that was it. Devestated when she had to leave the orphanage and him."

"That's..." Haruhi interjected, putting something together. "Kyle, right?" She sniffed the air, then, the smell of alcohol awakening her faster than anything she had experienced before. "Have you been drinking?"

"Bingo, little lady!" His grin was sloppy, boyish. "Kyle's the guy, she was with him for almost a year. And yeah, I'm a bit drunk. So was she. Only way she'd talk, y'know. We used to drink in the orphanage. We were real bad... One of us would head into town, pay a guy to buy us some forties, and we'd down them by that tree with the swing..."

He smiled as he remembered, clutched her hand tighter, like he was scared of losing her a second time.

"What'd she say?" Honey asks, growing impatient at his drunken state, the way his words occasionally slur together, the smell of him and the knowledge he made her drink. She was underage, for god's sake, it was illegal!

"Mostly she talked 'bout her dad. She explained what happened when she left, and the rules. She had a lot of 'em, y'know? Couldn't do much, always had to go home and do what her daddy couldn't. Made the company rich, made a lot of business partners on her own." He smiled, shook his head, looked up at Honey and grinned. "And you know? She talked about you. Kept saying she was sorry, sorry, sorry. Started talking about some Mori guy, 'bout their times. Went on and on, I nearly wanted to drown myself. Didn't know one girl could have so much thoughts 'bout a guy..."

It shocked them all, except Honey. He already knew, and as he saw the shocked-scared face of his cousin, he felt it his duty to fill them in.

"Sen remembers, everything. I don't think she ever forgot..."

"Bingo!" Ryan cuts in, closing his eyes and resting it against the bed. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system that caused him to get up and roll into the bed beside Sen. Maybe it was the guilt that made Kyoya kick him off, into a chair.

Or maybe he was just being protective of his future wife.

"Said she knew everything. Told me that. And 'bout her mom. Poor thing, Sen. Cried as she told me, she was so screwed up..." Tears came to his eyes as he remembered her drunken words, the way she cried and buried her head in his chest, bottle in her hand.

_My mom was murdered 'cause of me. I killed my mom, I'm a monster. I can't feel anything anymore, Ryan... I'm so cold._

"Shit, man, what went wrong with her...?"

_I'm so sorry, so so sorry. Don't hate me, father. Don't... Don't hate me, Ryan. _

"She was the strongest, she made us strong..."

He held his head in his hands as he sat, tears escaping his eyes. The alcohol rushed through him, changing everything, enhancing his emotions until he couldn't do anything but cry for her. Haruhi looked on, a bit embarrassed at her own actions, too much pity for him, so much empathy for the sleeping girl.

Her own mind kept replaying to that break down in the washroom, to the Sakai heir standing before the mirror like she was disgusted with her own reflection, her hands clenched tightly as she muttered, "If you've spent your life forgetting..."

"I don't wanna leave her alone. I want to take her with me, don't let me do it. Don't let me take her, don't let me, don't let me do it..."

_I'm so tired of this... _

_ I don't wanna be nothing anymore, I wanna be..._

He dried his eyes, got over his moment of weakness, wiped the run from his nose and avoided their eyes, ashamed of his drunken state. He should be holding himself together; he was an adult, dammit. He shouldn't be breaking down in front of such kids.

But Sen... Sen was his best friend, still was, despite their years of separation. She was his closest ally, the one who always held him in the middle of the nights when he was broken from the loss of his parents. She was the one who took his mind off death and the hardships he would always face. _She _made him strong. He had returned that favor.

"She'll be okay, she'll be fine. I talked to her, got her okay. She's Sen, don't know how long it'll last. Maybe it was for the night. Maybe she'll look at you all and realize she's done being a puppet." Ryan shook his head, stood up, swayed as he tried to find his balance. How he had been able to carry her to her room was something even he was trying to figure out, too out of it to even hold himself up now without her.

Maybe it was the knowledge that she was in his arms that steady his steps...

"We're leaving tomorrow," Kyoya stated out of courtesy. He'd probably want to see her before they left, wouldn't he? Who knew how long it would be until they could meet again...

"Uh, you mind doing me a favor? I... I wanna make sure she's fine. You wouldn't understand, there's a Sen, and then there's a _Sen. _One is her, the other who she ain't. I wanna make sure she's going home who she should be, not who he wants he to be."

He searches his pockets, pulls out a card. "My contact information. Keep it, in case she goes all nuts-o again, alright? And, uh... Bring her to the pancake house down the street in the morning, alright? She likes those the most." He grinned, shook his head, kicked his feet. "Won't ever admit it, but she's more of a kid then most. Grew up too fast 'cause of us orphans she had to look after."

Kyoya nodded sternly.

He wouldn't say it aloud, but as that drunken man approached the door, he was thankful. This plan worked, it helped. Perhaps not immediately, perhaps it had some bumps. But it worked, better than they imagined.

It might have been guilt for his actions, it might have been pity for seeing him cry. It might even had been his overwhelming relief that the girl was alright, that she would be okay, but either way, he approached him.

"Stay the night here," he offered.

But Ryan shook his head, smiled.

"Can't. Can't face her in the morning. She'll tear me apart for drinking." He flashed a thumbs up, almost like he was proud of himself. "Three and a half years sober, she made me. She'll be so pissed when she wakes up..." And with a laugh, he left out the door.

Haruhi looked at Tamaki, relished in his childish smile, that gloating look on his face, so overjoyed of the news he heard.

She smiled, too, looking at the sleeping girl with the legal toxic nectar of fools in her body.

If you've spent your life forgetting, Haruhi recalls, then allows herself to finish the thought.

Sometimes it's okay to let yourself remember.


	19. Chapter 19

The world spins too fast.

Slow down, stop.

Don't move.

I feel like I'm left behind; forgotten.

Don't leave me here, no.

It's dark here.

I'm confused, lost.

And then my eyes open.

Above is ceiling, white like snow.

Somewhere near are people, I hear them breath.

In, out. In, out.

So peaceful, do they know the world is running away?

Do they know we're being left behind?

I need to catch it.

Flimsy arms push me up, heavy legs are forced over the edge of a bed I don't remember entering.

A clock reads 3:56 am.

The world won't stop, time won't stop.

It spins as I walk, right left, one after the other or I'll fall.

Reach the door, turn the handle and ignore the reflection I see of myself in the door knob.

Don't look, don't see.

You're ugly, Sen.

You're weak, Sen.

You broke down, told everything.

Ignore them, continue down the hall, reach the end balcony.

It's raining, just like the first day.

I don't care, I don't feel.

Exit the hotel, stand amongst the rain.

I want to feel...

I want to.

Sen, someone calls. I turn, who's awake?

And it's him, so beautiful.

Mori, I want to say. Why are you up? Go to sleep, you need to rest. Don't concern yourself over me, stop caring about me. I can't know you, I don't know you; stop knowing me, too. Go to bed, don't look at me so desperately.

But I don't say nothing at all.

I see his hands clench to fists, wonder if he's mad. I want to reach out, touch him, grasp him, hold him. Don't be mad, don't make such a sad face. Don't stand here, don't make me worry.

He knows, I realize.

He hates me, loathes me, can't stand me.

I slapped him, pushed him. Lied to him, to them.

They all hate me.

They don't want me.

Eight is too much, I'm not wanted.

No, never was. Never before.

Why wasn't I the one who died?

Why mom, why her?

Why not me?

Too much yelling, too much pain. My head hurts, eyes scream, heart throbs. Ba-bump, ba-bump.

Slow down, stop.

Don't beat, stop.

I don't want to live now, no.

Mom's dead, father doesn't care.

Mori hates me.

No, no...

Please Mori, no.

Mori knows, no...

Tears fall before I realize, mixing with the rain.

I hope he can't tell, thinks it's the weather.

But Mori knows, yes. Mori always knows.

Mori knows...

He reaches out a hand, I shy away.

Don't touch me, I want to say. I'll ruin you, make you dirty. You'll die if you're around me, you'll be killed. Don't be so kind, don't offer me comfort. Turn around, walk away. Leave and never look back.

I'm sorry, I want to say. I'm sorry I lied, sorry I hit you.

Sen, he repeats, calls my name like he used to, reaches forward once more.

Don't.

Please, don't touch me, don't say my name so sweetly.

_Don't._

But he does, hand on my shoulder. Everything breaks, shatters, falls at his touch. My walls, my defenses.

_Please, don't._

Everything I've learned, everything I've done.

All for naught.

He says nothing, yanks me close, arms around me like I dreamed about for a year. A year away, a year abroad, a year without him.

Didn't he remember?

Didn't he forget?

Why, I want to ask, why do you treat me so? Why are you kind, why do you know me? Why must you hurt me, break my walls, tear me down? Why can't I be normal, be different, be dead?

I want to die, I want to say.

And I do.

His grip tightens, I stop breathing.

I want to die, I repeat.

It's different, it burns when I speak. I said what I wanted to, what I thought about. Never before, no. Not since the accident, not since mom. Not since I was a good girl, since he raised me like he should have before, since he took the initiative to train me well.

Father, father, father.

Never-say-what-you-want-to, raised by father.

Never-do-what-you-want-to, raised by father.

Brainwashed by father.

So I say it, over and over, my words of what I want to do, say, think.

I want to die, I want to die.

A year, I've had those thoughts. A year, since mom bled out.

Only now can I say them, hear them from my lips.

I say it again, his grip tightens, my tears fall faster, harder, easier.

Too long I've waited, dreamed, imagined.

Too long I've wanted to see Mori, hear Mori, touch Mori.

Yet now I don't know what to do, to say. This isn't how I thought, isn't what I wanted, planned, thought of. His grip's too tight, his eyes won't look at mine, he won't say a word; I need him to.

My legs give out, I can't stand. Still, he holds me. Still, he won't let me fall.

Still?

Still.

Always.

Mori, always. Always the hero, always the support. Always knows me, always helps me.

Can you help me now, Mori? Can you save me?

It's a big job, can you do it?

Don't take it if you can't; I don't want to be disappointed in you – I'd rather be dead.

He lifts me, holds me like a baby, lets me cry like I wish I wasn't.

Mori, Mori, Mori...

I pull back, look at him. His hair, black as night and wet as mine. The rain stuck on his eyelashes, bringing a shine to sad eyes. Face pale, lips pressed thin.

Don't look so upset, Mori. It's fine, Mori. I'm sorry, Mori.

Don't hate me, Mori.

I can't live if you hate me, no.

Don't be sad, he says.

It's like we're in the past, like we're young and silly and innocent and mom was alive and I wasn't so crazy.

It's fine, he says.

I want to believe him, I want to know it. Mori means more than anything, more than work, than money, than father.

I wrap my arms around his neck, squeeze him close, hold him like I never had been able to before. We were shy, we were scared. We still are.

I still am.

Scared, afraid, shy. Don't reject me, don't push me away.

I'm broken, I'm breaking.

Don't abandon me, don't let the world forget me.

Takashi-chan, I want to say.

_Want._

No.

Takashi-chan, I say, feel him stiffen.

I'm sorry, I say, feel him loosen.

His arms tighten more, my body cries in pain. Too tight, it says, too close.

No, I tell that voice. No, it's not tight enough, not close enough. No, more, more. Closer, tighter, hurry up. Close this distance; I've waited forever.

Yet there is nothing else, nothing more done.

My feet are back on the ground, my body is shaking.

And for once, I feel.

The rain on my skin, the cold seeping through.

For once, I smile.

So genuine, so real.

I look at him, smile, let the tears fall out of _happiness._

Mori, Mori, Mori.

Do you know, Mori?

Do you know?

I love you.

** [Author's Note]**

** So yes. Here's that chapter, another will be up later today, I have it pretty well done.**

** What I want to write here is kind of an advertisement for another story.**

** It is not my story, not at all, but two characters I've created are part of it. If you have a chance, it'd be a good idea to take a swing at the story and see what you think of it. I'm really happy that two – TWO! – of my submitted characters were picked amongst the 30-some-odd that were also entered. I only entered two characters, and they both were chosen, so I'm super happy! And it's a good story, too, so check it out if you want.**

** Here's the link:**

** .net/s/7943537/1/**

** Thanks to DangerMuffin for choosing my characters to integrate into their story!**


	20. Chapter 20

"I'm scared of a lot of things, Takashi-chan..."

Her confession came quietly, softly, like she was confessing to a crime she could never atone for. In the silence of room 3012 - the room he was originally supposed to share with his cousin - they talked about things he knew she would never be able to admit to in front of anyone else. They had been close, before the tragedy, and he knew they both still felt the same as they did back then. There was an unspeakable trust between them, she knew that anything said to him was secret and confidential, that he would never speak a word of it to anyone else, and not only because speaking was not something he did often. And he, in turn, knew he could say anything to her without fear of being judged. It had always been that way and - given the way she spoke to him now - it still was.

"Why?" he asked, though he could guess what her answer would be.

_I don't want to lose anyone else._

For a moment she doesn't move, doesn't react. She sits on the bed with her legs dangling over, swinging back and forth with the tempo of her shallow breathing. Her eyes downcast, she's lost in thought, and he can do nothing but admire her pale features and dark-rimmed eyes.

"I'm a coward, that's why." And she looks up through her hair and gives a smile, but he sees the shame she tries to hide.

It takes Mori by surprise, hearing her say something like that. Of all the things he had expected to hear, that was not one of them. Sen had been the bravest girl he had known, she had been able to accomplish so much in her life, had been able to confront a terrible man and witness his wrath. 'Cowardly' was not a word he would use to describe her.

She knew what he was going to ask before he ever did, their connection still as strong as it had once used to be.

"I'm afraid to live, Takashi-chan. I'm scared of upsetting anyone, now. I'm stripped of everything, devoid of everything, and I'm sure it shows. I'm... I'm nothing. I feel empty. I haven't felt anything in a long time." Her words are sad, her eyes are downcast, and it's like everything she's held inside has come out with those words. She straightens her back and smiles, a weight lifted off those tiny shoulders. "But that'll change. I feel it already." And a heartbeat later and the smile is gone, replaced by a shameful smile and those sad, sad eyes he's been unable to stop staring at. "Seeing Ryan again will probably get me in trouble, and I'm scared of that too, but... But I feel different now. I've been keeping everything in for so long that I forgot how... how _good_ it feels to say what I want." And without warning she laughs, little giggles bubbling up and out of her being like tiny fireworks. "Isn't that just silly? I never used to be the type to worry about what I said to others! And now look at me, so scared to say anything to anyone... What happened to me?"

"You experienced something traumatic..." Mori answered, too quickly to think about it.

Her smile died with his words, and suddenly she was back to the reclusive Sen he had wished she would leave behind. He didn't like seeing her like that, stuck hiding behind a facade he knew was forced.

"You don't need to be strong," softly he proclaims, looking at expression and expecting a change in her expression. But it doesn't happen, and she is left staring at him with unreadable eyes and a smile that seems too practiced. "I'll be strong enough for both of us."

It takes him a while to realize what he's said - he's tired, he loves her, he doesn't know what he's saying. He's disorientated and she's seemingly-suicidal. Maybe it was the best thing to say, maybe it'll only drive her away. It's mere minutes before either of them act, but it feels like hours had passed by the time she eventually stood from her place on the bed, a damp spot marking where she had previously been.

Three steps and she's in front of him, standing before the seat he occupies, his legs spread before him because of their length.

She gets to her knees before him, places her hands upon his knees and stares at his shocked eyes, smiling at his confusion.

"There's no one in this world strong enough for that, Takashi-chan." She leans her head against his right knee, closes her eyes, continues to speak in that quiet, shame-filled toned. "But you've been doing a good job so far. I can't guarantee I'll ever be the same as I once was, 'cause I've kind of forgot how it was to be that girl. It feels like... Like an eternity since I've been able to smile or laugh on my own. I've been molded and I don't think I can break it this time. I'm not strong enough for that."

He wants to ask what she means, he wants to ask what happened to her after she left Japan, he wants answers to the million different questions that have ran through his mind since she vanished. He wants to ask all of it, but he can't make his lips move, and instead he settles on placing his hand upon her head as an apology of all the things he cannot say.

She gives a little smile, closes her eyes, relaxes into his touch like they were old lovers and not just awkward teenagers with crushes. "My father believed I'm incapable of running his business." A sigh, a submissive frown. "Maybe he's right. It's not even been a week and I've already shattered my cellphone, had a meltdown, yelled at Haninozuka-sempai, revealed my biggest secret, and broke about thirty rules set by my father. I can understand why he's in such a hurry to marry me off to some Ootori third-born with a lust for status. It's clear that I can't manage _myself_, let alone his multimillion dollar business."

She gives an incredulous laugh, turns her head on his knee so her forehead is against it, hiding her eyes from his.

"It's not _his_ business," Mori finally says, his sleepy mind slowly catching up with what's going on around him. "It's yours. You raised it up to what it was." There's a pause between them, but it's a courtesy, a needed break in the conversation. Between them, it's not awkward, it's not stiffening silence. It's comfortable - a familiar silence. "I think you're trying to make up for your accident by putting all your efforts into the business in an attempt to apologize to your father. But you're just wearing yourself down, again..."

She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, but she smiles through it. "You said the same thing last time, Takashi-chan. And then my stocks rose twelve percent."

"You do the best work when you're happy." He smiles at her, gently wipes the tear away as it falls from her clouded, red eyes. How much crying has she done since she's returned? Seeing her again was supposed to be a joyous moment, a wonderful event. But instead it seemed like all the reunion was doing was bringing her down. "You can't concentrate when you're stressed. Putting all this pressure on yourself isn't healthy, and you're breaking to it. Surround yourself with better people, work how you want to work and do what you think it best." She smiles again, so does he. "You're unconventional, and that's what gets results. Your father will always be your father, regardless of what he puts you through. And I'm sure as long as you're happy, he can cope with a broken rule or two."

"More like eleven," she laughs, and pushes herself away from him. Using his knees, she stands on shaking legs. Is it from the cold, or the overwhelming emotions? Neither of them would ever know. "Thank you, Takashi-chan. You're always... You're always my hero. You're always right, too." Her joy leaves, her eyes fall, and this change of mood is getting to be almost normal, Mori realizes. She's constantly switching, he realizes. He can only imagine the vast amount of things running through her head, all the things that she's thinking about while he only thinks about her. "But it's hard. I'm scared. What if I do something and my father disowns me? What if he sends me away? What if I'm alone again?"

"Then I'll take care of you."

The shock of his words almost sends her stumbling backwards, but she regains her composure in a moment, still too aghast to form words, but not too disorientated to understand the situation.

Without a word she approaches him slowly, entering the are between his spread out legs, closing in on his torso with every petite step she makes. And her arms wrap around his neck, and she's holding him close, but loosely, like she's not afraid this time of losing her hold on him. For a while she stands like that, her head on his shoulders, and they are both content in that moment, and for her there was never an accident, never a year abroad, never a mentally-unstable girl with PTSD and survivors guilt. Instead, there was just Takashi and Sen, high school students with a bond that couldn't be defined. In that moment, there is no one else in the world but them, there is no rain beating on the windows, no thoughts about the father she will have to answer to, no pressure from the countless amount of business leaders she should have been speaking with.

In that moment, it's them.

She pulls away, and it feels too soon. She uses her hands to wipe down her semi-dry dress, gathers herself for a final time before she's ready.

Sen smiles, walks to the door, grips the doorknob and turns to face his still body, those tired eyes.

"I missed you, Takashi-chan."

And before he can tell her just how much he missed her, too, she's gone.


End file.
